


Snoodetober 2019

by Rose0Jam



Series: Dream Sequences [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Art, Digital Art, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Illustrated, Mild Smut, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-11-29
Packaged: 2020-10-30 05:29:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 32
Words: 58,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20809322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rose0Jam/pseuds/Rose0Jam
Summary: A collection of Snape/Reader one-shots and ficlettes based on my main story, Dream Sequence, and inspired by a prompt list created by BlooeyedTroll on Tumblr.There's gonna be so much FLUFF.And a tiny bit of smut ;3cNow with Illustrations by BlooeyedTroll included in the chapters!





	1. Prompt List and FAQ

**Author's Note:**

> **What is Snoodetober?**
> 
> Similar to the popular Inktober, Snoodetober is a month long art event, inspired by my SnapexReader/OC fan fic, [Dream Sequence](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18166589/chapters/42962960), and celebrating the ship of Severus Snape and my OC, Gwendolyn Goode. The event was created by [BlooeyedTroll](https://blooeyedtroll.tumblr.com/) over on Tumblr, and together, we created a [list of prompts](https://blooeyedTroll.tumblr.com/post/187679170249/thats-right-fellow-fans-of-dream-sequence-by), one for each day for the month of October! Bloo will be taking the traditional Inktober route of drawing a picture for each day, and I will be participating by writing a one-shot ficlette for each of the prompts!
> 
> **I’ve never read Dream Sequence!**
> 
> I recommend you do! It’s a pretty good fic, if I do say so myself. Dream Sequence is a muli-part Snape/Original Female Character fiction, told in the 2nd person, which also sort of makes it a Snape/Reader fiction. [You can read it here on AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18166589/chapters/42962960)! Now, if you wanted to read Snoodetober without reading the main fic, that’s fine! You just may not get a few certain references or characters.
> 
> **I HAVE read Dream Sequence!**
> 
> That’s great! Thank you so much! So what YOU need to know is that Snoodetober is going to take place in a sort of Bubble AU, separate from my main story. You can assume that Sev and Gwen have been dating for a little while (less than a year, probably) and there is little to no angst or conflict involved 9w9 This is going to be a celebration of fluff and slices of life and good feelings uvu! It’s going to be entirely separate from the main story line of Dream Sequence, but will still include some major elements. I guess what I’m saying is, you don’t HAVE to read Snoodetober if you don’t want to. Nothing written here will elemental to the main plot of Dream Sequence. But I think you will enjoy it none the less!
> 
> **Will you be updating Dream Sequence at all?**
> 
> I’m afraid not. We will be back to our regularly scheduled Dream Sequence in November!
> 
> **Anything else I should know?**
> 
> Just be sure to follow @[BlooeyedTroll](https://blooeyedTroll.tumblr.com/) on tumblr so you can see all of their amazing fan art! I will be posting links to their art in the footnotes as well, since we plan on collaborating on a few prompts!

Prompt List:

1\. Keepsake  
2\. Hair  
3\. Catsona  
4\. Defense  
5\. Scent  
6\. Transfigure  
7\. Genderbent  
8\. Baking  
9\. Mask  
10\. Caught  
11\. Glow  
12\. Freckles  
13\. Buttons  
14\. Selfcare  
15\. Gemstone  
16\. Pumpkin Spice  
17\. Outing  
18\. Warmth  
19\. Drinksona  
20\. Scarves  
21\. Punk  
22\. Fly  
23\. Hands  
24\. Candlelight  
25\. Dare  
26\. Feast  
27\. Bond  
28\. Potion  
29\. Savor  
30\. Treats  
31\. Samhain


	2. Keepsake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: Here we goooooo!!! First one and it was SUPER FUN to write. It’s nice to just be fluffy for once. This is going to be such a fun event u3u I hope you enojooooy!
> 
> Length: 2011
> 
> Rating: Hard T
> 
> Warnings: Suggestive language but nothing TOO spicy.

Summer had always been your favorite time of the year. As a child, it had meant taking a break from school, going back home to spend time with your mother, and having a small taste of freedom to do as you wished. You’d spent a vast majority of your time at the park near your apartment, sometimes with neighborhood friends, but typically by yourself. You would spend your pocket money on ice lollys and doodle nonsense in your sketchbooks as you soaked up the warmth of the sun, developing more freckles by the day. Sometimes your mother would load up her ancient Volvo with picnics and blankets, and you’d take rides out to the country, or down by the shore, blasting the radio for as long as you had the signal and just savoring your time together before you had to leave for Hogwarts again.

But as you got older… you were starting to see the appeal of fall.

October, in particular. As the air became cooler, colors, flavors and smells would all start to shift, from the bright and vibrant tones of summer, to the warm and luscious notes of autumn. As a child, of course you looked forward to Halloween, collaborating with your mother to make the perfect costume, watching horror movies on television as you gorged yourself on free candy. Even when you were very small, before you’d ever known that you were a real witch, your mother's interest in the muggle approximation of witchcraft always made the month feel like a sacred and magical time of year. It wasn’t that fall was any better than summer, or vice versa. They were simply… different. They carried their own charms, and you were beginning to appreciate the qualities of the harvest season.

You were also pretty sure that Severus _vastly_ preferred it to summertime.

…You were pretty sure he vastly preferred _most_ things to summertime.

So autumn was a happy medium for you both!

It also brought with it many opportunities and perfect excuses for you to get closer. Not that _you_ really needed an excuse, but sometimes _he_ did. Like using the brisk autumn mornings watching Quidditch from the high windy stands as an excuse to hold your hand, just to keep your fingers warm, of course. Or the fact that the rare mushrooms popping up on the edge of the Dark Forest only appeared around this time of year, so it would really be a good idea to go and harvest them together, while they were still in season. Or claiming that it was absolutely just too cold in the dungeons for you to sneak back to your room at such a late hour, and you really ought to just stay the night.

Which was exactly what you had done _last_ night. Neither of you ever brought up the fact that you could just _floo_ back to your quarters, if it was really such an issue. That kind of logic would only serve to deprive you of these achingly tender mornings together. He almost always woke before you, and would emerge from his cocoon of blankets quietly so as not to disturb you from your slumber. (_You didn’t mind that he always stole the blankets. The man was a block of ice, while you slept like a furnace at night._) He would typically go to shower and shave before you even stirred, but always made sure to summon a house elf first, ensuring that hot coffee would be waiting for you the moment you woke up. He was just an unbearably considerate bedfellow, and you were getting quite used to the pampering.

You were sitting cross-legged in his bed now, bent tiredly over a steaming mug of coffee and the morning edition of the Daily Prophet. You were barely absorbing any of the information within, mostly just flicking between the pages for the pictures. It was just easier to read the caption under the photo of this celebrity or that Quidditch player or the other politician, than to bother reading any actual articles. You were also sad that comics weren’t really a thing in wizarding newspapers, which you personally thought was a missed opportunity. You only started to feel the perk of the coffee when you got to the games page on the back of the paper. 

Severus liked the ancient rune puzzles, though you had absolutely no idea how he did any of them. You were often reminded of just how much fucking smarter than you he was, so you stopped trying to put yourself on the same level any more. You weren’t ashamed to ask for help. Especially because you fancied yourself a fan of the crossword. Well, if you could _call_ it a crossword; the little squares would often times shift around and screw up an answer you thought you knew. Or sometimes they would disappear altogether, and their riddle would vanish along with it if you were just entirely wrong. It was very exciting, and made you feel like you were at least marginally intelligent when you did get something right (_though Severus answered most of the questions for you_).

And you could not have been more thrilled when you discovered that the theme of the days puzzle was _Potions Ingredients_. God, _finally_! Something _directly_ up your alley. You… suspected you would still need help with it, but wouldn’t it be impressive to fill in a majority of them before you actually needed to ask? You took another sip of your coffee before setting it down on the small table on your side of the bed (your_ side, ahhh~_) and scanning the room. If you were a quill, where might you be hiding? Severus’ room was sparse to say the least. It was set up very similarly to your own, with a bathroom, walk in closet and fireplace. Only the alcove window showed a view of the bottom of the Black Lake, and every single inch of available wallspace was lined floor to ceiling with books. You imagined since all of the shelf space in his office was taken up by jars, he needed to keep his books in here, but it did not leave much room for personal effects. You really didn’t want to put your bare feet on the stone dungeon floor right now, so you started with the drawer slotted into your bedside table. Which was, unsurprisingly, completely empty. Because it was your side of the bed, and you hadn’t had anything to put in there yet, genius. 

You groaned as you rolled over onto your stomach, stretching yourself out across the entire length of the bed like a cat, before shimmying over to his side of the bed. You allowed yourself a brief moment to bury your nose into the sheets, sighing contentedly at the distinct scent of him left on the cotton. God you just wanted to bathe yourself in it. Speaking of which, the shower had stopped running behind the bathroom door directly across from you. Better not dawdle. You were on a mission. Reaching his bedside table, you fumbled with the drawer handle before finally sliding it open. It rattled with the promise of a pen…

But what you found instead were several familiar looking _red_ pens. At least half a dozen of them, all of various makes and models. Some push button, others with separate caps. But something that they all very clearly had in common, was that they were all completely _empty_. You picked up a few, just to be sure, and you could see through the clear plastic windows imbedded in their sides that they were all entirely dried up. You bit your bottom lip as you looked down at the small amalgamation of dud pens, interspersed with a few other odds and ends. A thimble, a spool of black thread and a needle, a pair of heavy looking silver scissors and oddly enough, a set of muggle keys. It was just a junk drawer, where you tossed junk, obviously. There… there was no proof that these were the ones _you_ had given him anyway. You’d been gone for a few years, after all. Maybe once you’d left, he’d finally gotten off of his lazy ass and bought some himself. That certainly seemed more reasonable, than thinking there was any sort of sentimentality involved in keeping a bunch of empty red pens…

And then you saw the ribbons.

Five lengths of black velvet ribbon, stretched out along the front of the drawer so that they could lay flat without getting tangled up. They were bent and crimped only where you had tied them in a bow however many years ago, making them undeniably _your_ ribbons. You carefully lifted one of the strands, pulling it between your thumb and forefinger so as to brush away some of the dust that had accumulated on the velveteen surface. This… this wasn’t just carelessly tossed into a junk drawer. These had been preserved. And if that wasn’t sentimentality, you didn’t know what was.

“Isn’t it a little early to be snooping?”

You gasped, your entire body jolting against the bed as your head snapped up, but your shock was immediately replaced with exasperation as you found him leaning against the bathroom door frame, an arrogant smirk on his face and a white towel barely clinging to his boney hips. It would have been enticing if he wasn’t looking so very self-satisfied. “Isn’t it a little early to be so smug?” you countered, trying to hide your own grin behind a facade of vexation as you pulled yourself up to sit back on your knees, ribbon still twined around your fingers.

“Never too early for that,” he shot back, walking across the room towards the bed (_how did his feet not just freeze off_), pressing his hips against the edge of the mattress as he leaned towards you. He smelled intoxicating, whatever that teakwood and clove-bud product was having been freshly applied. Water dripped from the ends of his hair onto your thighs as he crept his fingers over the sheets on either side of you. “What are you… oh.” He’d caught sight of the ribbon in your hand, and it was your turn to smirk as you watched him twist back to peer into the open drawer behind him.

“I never knew you to be so sentimental,” you teased, reaching up and brushing the length of soft velvet over his cheek. He shifted his eyes back to you, arching a brow as he turned back around. Eyes never leaving yours, you felt his fingers smooth up your thigh, over your hip and waist, before curling a finger around the neckline of the strappy satin nightgown you wore. Moving achingly slow, he tugged the neck down, down between your breasts, before his fingers caught their desired prize.

“You’re one to talk,” he purred, lifting the small bottle of phoenix tears between his fingers, a charm that never left your throat. And if you hadn’t already been blushing before, you certainly were now. You were trying very hard to stay irritated with him, but he never made anything easy, did he? Plus he went and got you all hot and bothered first thing in the morning. Bastard.

“Touché,” you relented, before leaning in and pressing your lips to his, and he kissed back readily, a sensation you never got tired of feeling. Looping your arms around his damp shoulders, you kept him bent over you, holding the velvet ribbon between both of your hands against the back of his neck. “Now, if you’re quite done teasing me, is it too late for you to get back into bed with me?” you asked coyly, even throwing in a little pout for good measure.

And it seemed to have the desired effect. He traced the smooth, rounded end of the phoenix tear bottle against your skin, over your collar bones and down your sternum, before dropping the pendant and sliding his arms around your waist. “Hmm… Never too late for that…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Art by BlooeyedTroll!](https://blooeyedtrool.tumblr.com/post/188074273529/keepsake-snoodetober-october-1st-2019)
> 
> [Pendant by thepomegranatejuice!](https://thepomegranatejuice.tumblr.com/post/188074241248/phoenix-tears-and-their-keepers-this-is-my-first)
> 
> [Art by sadttitude!](https://sadttitude.tumblr.com/post/188074753855/welp-this-was-my-attempt-at-rose0jam)


	3. Hair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: Round two! A smol continuation of the last story. They won’t all be like that, but these two just happened to fit together well uwu I also don’t think they’ll all be this long????
> 
> Length: 2326
> 
> Rating: T
> 
> Warnings: They’re naked again, but nothing rly spicy.

You wondered if anyone had noticed that the pair of you were frequently absent for breakfast these days.

It probably wasn’t a good look, honestly; especially for a Head of House to be missing from the Great Hall in the morning. You were certain the Slytherins had already noticed, as well as a vast majority of the teachers. But you weren’t sure if they’d noticed that _you_ were _also_ missing on a regular basis. And if they _had_ noticed, had they connected the dots about it? Neither of you were being particularly secretive about your relationship, but Severus valued his privacy above all else, and it wasn’t like either of you went about broadcasting it to the world. Public displays of affection were virtually nonexistent, but that suited you just fine. The private displays more than made up for it.

You were still in his bed. Neither of you had gotten very far after both his towel and your nightgown had been flung to the floor. You hadn’t made love, there simply wasn’t enough time for that, and he’d just taken a shower after all, but you’d languidly kissed each other into oblivion for what easily could have been hours. _Now_ both of you were just procrastinating, his head pillowed against your small breasts as you lazily carded your fingers through his thick, coarse hair. The clock above the fireplace was ticking away the minutes, and you knew you would have to get out of bed soon. But for now, you were going to enjoy this, damn it.

You were entranced by how different his hair looked and felt when it was wet. When it was dry, it reminded you of horse’s hair, heavy and dark, the subtle waves slipping through your fingers like ink. Not as wavy as _yours _of course, but it still gave his hair those cute little flips at the ends (_not that he’d ever consent to being called_ cute). Though it was no longer dripping wet, it was still damp enough to appear much straighter and longer than it did when dry. It rested several inches past his shoulders now, and you lifted your head slightly to get a better gauge on it.

“Your hair’s gotten long,” you noted quietly, pressing your lips to the crown of his head as you smoothed your hands over the impressive length of black hair. You felt a soft hum of acknowledgement against your chest, and you smiled slightly as you combed your fingers through it once more, watching trails of pale skin peek out from between the dark strands. “You don’t usually keep it this long, do you?”

Another hum, followed by a puff of warm breath against your collar bone as he lifted his head to speak. “I don’t,” he admitted, resting his chin against your sternum as he peered up at you. “But to be fair I’ve been _incredibly_ busy in the mornings lately. I haven’t been able to maintain my usual upkeep.” 

You narrowed your eyes at his deadpan delivery, but immediately burst into giggles when he waggled his eyebrows at you suggestively, your head falling back onto his pillow. “Yeah, yeah, blame it on me. Fine.” You could feel his chuckle against your belly, and smiled serenely as you continued to pet him tenderly. It took an embarrassingly long time for his words to actually register with you, and you tilted your head back up, brow furrowed with incomprehension. “You cut your own hair?”

His expression was impassive again, though he did arch a challenging eyebrow. “I do,” he answered blandly, watching you carefully, as if looking for signs of judgement. 

But you certainly weren’t being critical, only curious as you continued to lazily stroke his hair. “Why?” you asked, making sure to keep your tone light and inquisitive, lest he get the wrong idea. You knew there were certain things he was sensitive about (_though he’d never freely admit to them_), particularly concerning his appearance, and you never wanted to give him the impression that you were anything but wildly attracted to every single thing about him. And that was especially true in regards to his hair.

Seemingly satisfied that your intentions were pure, he merely shrugged a shoulder, settling his cheek back against your chest. “Why not?” he countered, smoothing his hands along your side, brushing his thumbs slowly back and forth against your ribs. You tried not to giggle. “I always have. Or rather… my mother cut it for me, when I was a boy.” You sobered up quickly, suddenly not terribly ticklish. He didn’t talk about her very often, so you always made sure to listen closely when he did. “Barbers were expensive and unnecessary. I started cutting it myself as a teenager and…” There was a pause, and another shoulder shrug, before he wrapped both of his arms around your waist. “The aesthetic remained.”

Your heart ached at this confession. It usually did that, when he talked about his mother, about his past. His delivery was casual, but you knew that there was pain under the surface. And though your relationship was still fledgling, every little chip at that surface brought you a little closer to him. “Is that why you keep it long? Easier to cut?” you asked, attempting to keep your own voice casual as you tried not to let your empathy overwhelm you.

You felt him nod his head more than saw it, accompanied by a lazy “_Mmhmm_…” that rumbled against your chest. You couldn’t help but smile a little. He better not be falling back asleep; the bells would start ringing soon. His eyes were closed, dark lashes fanned out over the dark smudges under his eyes. But you were always pleased to see that the deep lines usually marring his face seemed to smooth away when you were together. “Doesn’t it get in the way?” you asked, trying to keep him attentive as you pushed a few loose strands from his face, tucking it behind his ear. 

“_Constantly_,” he replied, and you saw a smirk tug at his mouth as you started giggled again. He finally opened his eyes, and they seemed to focus on something beside the bed. You turned your head as well, eyes falling on his still open nightstand drawer. “You could cut it for me,” he suggested abruptly, and you would have jolted upright if there wasn’t a whole bunch of Severus keeping you pinned to the bed.

“Whu… _What_?” you giggled nervously, looking down at him doubtfully as he turned his face back to yours.

“You could cut it for me,” he repeated, propping himself up on his elbows, straddling your waist. “I mean, it’s not like I can’t just do it myself, but it is considerably easier to manage with some assistance.”

You couldn’t believe what he was suggesting, but you also couldn’t keep your incredulous smile off of your face. “You want me to cut your hair,” you asked for clarification, just so you could be absolutely sure, and he nodded. “Right now?”

He finally rolled himself off of you, and you lamented the loss of his weight and body heat almost instantly. “Why not?” he asked, reaching into the bedside drawer and retrieving the pair of heavy silver scissors, holding them out to you, and you stared at them like he was offering you a loaded gun.

“Because I’ve never cut someone else’s hair in my life!” you protested, pushing yourself up into a sitting position and bringing your legs up to your chest, wrapping your arms around your knees to try and retain some of his lingering warmth. What if you screwed it up? Made it all lopsided or just totally butchered it? Logically you knew he could use a hair growing charm to even out the damage but you didn’t want to make him go through the extra effort just because you were inept with a pair of scissors that clearly was not meant for cutting hair!

“There’s nothing to it,” he soothed, and you pouted at being spoken to like a child. “You just put it in a ponytail and then you lob it all off.” He punctuated the point with a snip of the scissors in the air, and you gasped with another bubble of anxious giggles.

“Oh my _god_,” you protested, shaking your head in utter horror and fascination. “Does Lucius know you do this to yourself?” you asked accusingly, and your giggles only intensifying as Severus rolled his eyes theatrically.

“What Lucius doesn’t know can’t hurt him,” he assured you, turning the scissors around to hold them by the blade end, offering them to you once again. “Please?” he asked, knowing the pleading note in his voice was only there for dramatic effect, but it still tugged at your heart strings nonetheless. Despite all of the teasing and nonchalance, this seemed like a rather intimate gesture. He’d been doing it himself for years. He was asking you for your help, something he didn’t actually do very often. You usually had to be the one to press him into allowing you to help him, so this felt… sort of important.

“If you insist,” you relented, taking the handle of the scissors, feeling their cold weight in your hand. He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth, and you melted instantly. You’d do anything he asked of you, honestly. You placed your free hand against his cheek, making him stay a little longer so you could give him a proper kiss, before you pressed on his shoulder, making him sit up properly with his back facing you. 

It looked even longer now that he was sitting up straight, and you felt your fingers trembling slightly as you set the scissors down on the pillow. He said to just put it in a ponytail and cut the whole thing off, right? You could do that. Twisting around in the bed, you saw the black velvet ribbon you had pilfered from the drawer earlier, and plucked it up from where it was hiding among the sheets. That would do. Turning back to him, you sat up on your knees, cursing the chill of the dungeon against your naked skin, especially because you felt feverish with dread. 

You held the ribbon between your lips as you used both hands to comb his damp hair back, doing your best to make sure it was even and smooth. You supposed you could have summoned a comb from the bathroom, but Severus didn’t seem too concerned with the logistics of the operation. Once you had his hair gathered at his nape, you held it securely with one hand, taking the ribbon from your mouth with the other. “How short do you want it?” you asked, tying the ribbon snugly around his mane, just at the base of his neck.

“Hmm… Pull the ribbon down about two inches,” he suggested, reaching a hand back and brushing his fingers against yours as he tried to measure the length. “It gets shorter once it’s dry,” he explained, and you smiled, thinking about the triumphant return of his flippy ends. Yes, okay, this was actually a fantastic idea. 

You slid the ribbon down as instructed, and made sure to pull the bow nice and tight so it stayed together once you cut. “Okay,” you breathed, plucking the scissors up from the pillow. “Oh…. Kay….” You whined a little. Why was this so scary?!

“Gwen, please,” you heard him sigh, and you pouted as he looked over his shoulder at you. “I usually have to do this by myself with a mirror spell and a severing charm. I’m lucky I haven’t sliced my neck open.” Okay, that did _not_ make you feel better!! But his smirk and arched brow told you that… that may or may not have been hyperbole. The point was that he usually had to do this himself. And there probably wasn’t anything you could do to fuck it up that terribly…

“Okay,” you said, finally, and took a steadying breath. He turned back around, and you held the base of his ponytail tightly. You pulled the scissors open, before slotting the cord of hair between the blades. His thick hair showed only a little resistance to the sharp edge, and you sawed slowly and methodically in an attempt to keep the cut as straight and even as possible. It felt like it was taking forever, but you squeaked when the scissors suddenly snapped completely shut, and the length of dark hair came away in your hand. The remaining hair fell heavily into place, resting just above his shoulders now, though the strands in the front were considerably longer. You felt a whine rise in your throat. Oooooh no you fucked up why had he let you-

“Thank you,” you heard his deep baritone next to your ear, and you snapped your red face up to meet his. He was easing the scissors and lock of hair from your hands, discarding both to the bedside table, and you pouted as you reached up to touch the uneven ends. “I’ll take care of those,” he assured you, taking your face in his hands, before he dug his fingers into _your_ hair, capturing your lips as he tilted your head back. You sighed into his mouth, feeling your tension drain away as you placed your hands against his wrists. “Really,” he muttered between kisses. “Thank you, for doing that.”

You pouted, deciding that he was ultimately the one who decided whether you did a good job or not, and you nodded before you kissed him one last time. “You’re welcome,” you relented, and he grinned against your cheek. You knew you would have to leave soon. Put your clothes back on and floo to your quarters and get ready to teach. But you’d drag this out for as long as he’d let you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Art by BlooeyedTroll!](https://blooeyedTroll.tumblr.com/post/188095738924/hair-snoodetober-october-2nd-2019)
> 
> [Art by thepomegranatejuice!](https://thepomegranatejuice.tumblr.com/post/188096223833/i-have-many-hcs-about-this-prompt-and-i-wanted-to)
> 
> [Art by sadttitude!](https://sadttitude.tumblr.com/post/188096915365/rose0jam-snoodetober-2-hair-welp-i-drew)


	4. Catsona

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: Trying a different perspective 9w9 This one is from Sev’s POV.
> 
> Length: 1037
> 
> Rating: G
> 
> Warnings: much fluff, such love, wow, amaze

You’d had every opportunity to stop her from entering the Magical Menagerie. Florean Fortescue’s was _right_ across the street, and if there was anything you had learned over the last few months, it was that Gwendolyn Goode was easily persuaded when sweets were involved. All it would have taken was one whispered suggestion in her ear and she would have bounced off to the ice cream parlor before you could say ‘chocolate therapy.’ She probably would have found it terribly romantic too; she was awfully good at tricking you into going on proper dates. But no, you simply hadn’t had the strength to stop her, because if there was anything _else_ you had learned over the last few months, it was that this girl made you _weak_.

She had gasped with delight upon spotting _something_ that had caught her interest in the window of the pet shop. Before you knew it, she’d slipped her hand out of yours and bounded into the Menagerie, leaving _you_ behind on the empty street with a bag full of rare books and the lingering scent of her rose perfume. The books were the whole reason for this impromptu trip to Diagon Alley in the first place, given that Flourish and Blotts didn’t have a Hogsmeade branch. Though you really wished they would invest in a new location. Maybe then you wouldn’t be at risk of having to adopt an animal with your new girlfriend. You decidedly weren’t ready for children.

You braced yourself for the possibility of having to tell her “no” for once in your life as you followed her into the pet store. Almost instantly, you were assaulted by the cacophony of sound that was the Magical Menagerie. Specifically, the sound of Crups barking and snarling set your teeth on edge. You quickly scanned the store before spotting that unmistakable mass of wavy blond hair near the window, and blessedly, far away from the pen of Crups.

Even over the whines and growls of assorted creatures both magical and otherwise, you could hear Gwen cooing to a dark bundle in her arms, and your heart sank. Great, she was using baby talk. This might already be a lost cause. Gently pressing your hand to the small of her back to announce your presence, you were caught off guard by the elated beam she threw over her shoulder at you. You were just so unused to seeing anyone smiling at you like that. Or rather… you were simply unused to people smiling at you _at all_. Your own doing, of course, but it made you wonder what on earth you had done to deserve being on the receiving end of such a look from a girl like her.

“Look!” she cried breathlessly, turning around to present the creature in her arms. For a brief moment you thought she’d gotten her foolish hands on a baby Acromantula, as you were greeted primarily with the sight of several long, furry black legs sticking out at stiff angles. But there weren’t enough legs for it to be an Acromantila, and as far as you knew, spiders didn’t purr. The cat she held in her arms was lean and sinewy, its sharp claws opening and closing in the air at random intervals as Gwen scratched its narrow chin with her short nails. It had very distinctive features, for a cat. Particularly it’s pointed face, great, bat-like ears, and long, broad nose-

Oh…

Oh god _damn_ it.

“I mean, it’s uncanny,” she teased, that elated beam morphing into something more playful as she switched from scratching its chin to rubbing her thumb over the bridge of its large nose. The purring continued, though the cat seemed rather reluctant to be receiving so much attention. Like it would much rather be placed back in its cage and left alone, but was absolutely powerless against such sweet affection. You could relate.

“I’m not sure whether to be offended or flattered,” you sighed, propping your free hand on your hip as you watched the cats tail start curling lazily, its eyes finally drifting closed as it gave in to her ministrations. It had relented so easily… you could relate to _that_, too. “My ears don’t stick out that far, do they?”

She giggled, a sound like the tinkle of a bell as she nuzzled her nose against the aforementioned ears. “Noooo,” she insisted, placing a little kiss to the crown of the cats head. “…Only when you wear your hair back.” She winked, and you rolled your eyes dramatically, which elicited another giggle. You knew she was ribbing you but… You also knew you’d be checking in the mirror later tonight.

“You don’t plan on taking it back to the castle, do you?” you questioned, finally surrendering and reaching out to scratch the black cat behind the ears. But you were stopped midstride by the sensation of something brushing against your ankles, and you jumped backward, nearly dropping your bag of books in the process. Gwen was already in another fit of giggles as you peered down between your legs, at an excruciatingly fluffy cream and orange cat that was brushing itself against you, leaving great stripes of white fur on your black trousers in the process. It gazed up at you with bright, wide eyes, and meowed sweetly as it weaved itself between your feet. It… certainly _was_ uncanny.

“No, I don’t think I’ll be bringing him along. He’s already got a girlfriend,” Gwen cooed, squatting down and letting the tangle of long limbs that somehow passed as a cat flop out of her hold. The black cat mewled loudly, catching the attention of the petite fluffy thing that was still insistent on forcing its affection on you. But once it saw that its partner had been released, both black and white felines leapt up onto the sunny window ledge, before curling up together upon the same black velvet cushion. 

You felt warm fingers lace between yours, and you sighed through your nose, a breath of relief and content as you squeezed her hand in return. So maybe coming in here hadn’t been so terrible. She was awfully good at tricking you into proper dates, after all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Art by BlooeyedTroll!](https://blooeyedtroll.tumblr.com/post/188119837229/catsona-snoodetober-october-3rd)   



	5. Defense

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: AHHH I’M SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG. But I got it in on the correct day so :’333
> 
> There are several jumps in perspective. Keep an eye out for the -S- or the -G- to know who is who. Another continuation of the last story.
> 
> Length: 3379
> 
> Rating: Hard T
> 
> Warnings: Violence, brief traumatic flashbacks, anxiety, dementors

-S-

You felt them before you saw them. It was like being shoved in the chest and falling back into a frozen slush of ice and mud. A nauseating, skin crawling apprehension that you’d hoped you would never have to experience again in your life. Not after your trial. Not after you had been cleared. It was unnerving to be feeling the dread of awaiting a verdict, the claustrophobia of sitting in a holding cell, the constant reminders of every horrible thing you’d ever seen or done… while out in broad daylight.

Gwendolyn had insisted upon visiting Sugarplum’s Sweet Shop after you’d left the Magical Menagerie, claiming she absolutely _had_ to get a Sugar Plum Apple while she was still in Diagon Alley, because they obviously didn’t have them at Honeydukes. The line inside of the minuscule candy shop had been… excessive, and your response had been to roll your eyes, a reaction you were deeply regretting, now. She’d told you to go on ahead to the Leakey Cauldron. Grab a table and order a round, and she would meet you there when she was finished. She was being so damn considerate, so accommodating to your whims. You’d agreed without question, and she’d placed a kiss on the corner of your mouth before nipping off into the brightly colored store. You hadn’t even looked back as you headed for the empty alleyway that would take you to the Leaky Cauldron.

That alleyway was not so empty anymore, though. Diagon Alley had not been terribly crowded to begin with, being the middle of a school year. The street had been sparsely populated with a handful of vendors and shoppers and tourists. But the moment the shining sun had been blocked out by a roiling of dark clouds… as soon as people felt that cold, slimy sensation creep over them… panic began to spread like wildfire. 

Sirius Black, spotted in London. Azkaban Guards descending on Charing Cross Road. There seemed to be discourse about which monster was more frightening and dangerous, but you knew who you would place your Galleons on. All that mattered was getting out of Diagon Alley as quickly as possible, and that meant a sudden influx of people heading the same direction as you. 

Years of Occlumency had given you the ability to remain calm in even the most dire of situations. You’d slipped your wand from your sleeve the second you’d felt that icy dread crawl up your back, ready to protect as many people as possible should the need arise. But in the moment, as dozens of terror stricken witches and wizards ran past you, desperate to tap their own wands against the brick barrier between the alleyway and the courtyard… you did not see Gwendolyn among them, and you felt your own panic start to rise.

You knew she wasn’t a stupid girl. She would have stayed inside of Sugarplums, right? Taken cover until the threat had passed, and then gone to meet you at the Leaky once the coast was clear. You really ought to stick to your original plan… but the alleyway was getting awfully congested. You pressed your back against the brick wall, trying to use your height to assess the situation, and you saw that the barrier was not opening. The bricks were being desperately tapped in the correct order by a frenzied looking old wizard, but the entrance would not appear. You also observed an increasingly hysterical witch attempting to Apparate away, only to reappear in the exact same spot. The street had been sealed. They weren’t letting anyone out until they found who they were looking for, and you felt your heart plummet into your guts. 

Logic dictated you simply wait. But your logic was slowly slipping away from you as the panicked crowd pressed in around you, the cries of frightened children and adults alike drilling into your skull. Because while you knew the Dementors were ordered to search for one man, and one man only… you also knew how hungry Dementors could get, especially when people were _scared_. 

You needed to find her. _Now_.

Your alarm continued to escalate as you pushed yourself against the crowd, slowly working your way upstream before practically sprinting once you hit the main street. If the Dementors became frenzied, overwhelmed with the swell of fear they themselves were producing... Most common witches and wizards could barely summon a puff of mist when attempting a Patronus charm, Gwendolyn among them. You’d been amused at the time, at her valiant attempts to make something more substantial than vapor, at her frustration over how rubbish she was at charms. You’d been encouraging, but frankly, not terribly helpful. You were reluctant to demonstrate the charm yourself. And you were loath to consider the possibility of having to cast your own Patonus in this situation. You would do it, if things turned grim. But first you needed to find Gwen, and then you needed to-

The jinx hit you between the shoulder blades, sending you skidding onto your hands and knees, feeling the skin of your palms scrape away on the cobbled stone. Your bag of books had scattered to the ground, and your wand clattered to the pavement several feet ahead of you. You heard shouting behind you, young men yelling triumphantly, and the sound of booted feet approaching. The breath had already been knocked out of you by their Flipendo, and you were doing all that you could to catch your breath when one of those booted feet slammed into your shoulder, pushing you onto your side before kicking you onto your back.

“Oi! This ain’t him!”

You couldn’t breathe, your vision swimming as you tried to get the flow of oxygen back to your brain, staring up into the darkened faces of the four men towering over you. 

“Whaddya _mean_ it ain’t him? Skinny bloke, long black hair, runnin’ in the _opposite_ direction of everyone else? Sounds like Sirius Black to me.”

“Nah nah, I’m tellin’ ya! This ain’t him. Look at him! He’s not all…” There was a vague hand gesture in the direction of your face, followed by muffled snickering from all four boys. “Well, maybe he is, but not as bad as Black, right?”

“Practice round then, lads. Let’s keep looking for the real deal. Sooner Black’s found, sooner we can get _out_ of here, and collect our reward, ay?”

There was joint agreement, and all four looming figures departed in opposite directions. “Sorry about that, mate!” one of them called, delivering a kick to your wand, which sent it spinning wildly across the street.

Your breath came in shallow gasps as you stared up into the rapidly darkening sky, your entire body throbbing with agony and your head teaming with unbidden memories you were suddenly powerless to block out. Your control was slipping, exacerbated by the effect that Dementors tended to have on people. But Dementors affected some people worse than others. People whose pasts are filled with more horror and pain than happiness or joy.

_Looming figures, towering over you. A hook-nosed man growling with disgust as you sniffled in the corner... Four snickering boys, three of them outright laughing as you struggled to catch your breath, choking on foam... An unnerving man with glinting red eyes, asking you to roll back your sleeve…_

People like you.

-G-

Sugarplum’s was pandemonium. The already crowded store became even more jam-packed when people suddenly started barging in, seeking shelter from… Well, at first you had thought it was an unexpected rain storm, the sky overhead turning heavy with dark clouds that hadn’t been there mere moments before. In fact, you remember the weather forecast in the Prophet being quite pleasant.

But this wasn’t just rain.

Through the frightened chattering, you heard the words: Sirius Black. Dementors. They’d sealed the district and no one was allowed in or out. Severus had been heading to the Leaky Cauldron when you’d parted ways. Had he made it before the chaos descended? Or was he caught in the bedlam out there? If he was, you reckoned you ought to stay right where you were. He’d certainly be headed this way to come collect you, right?

Most of the patrons had taken to hiding in the kitchens in the back of the shop, but you and a few others remained posted at the front, peering through the brightly decorated store windows to try and see what was happening out on the street. It was nearly abandoned, now, most people having taken refuge in nearby shops and alleyways. There were only a few young men roaming the street, looking suspicious and determined as they kicked over shop stands, and slammed their dirty faces into windows, as if looking for something within the stores. They made you about as uneasy as the Dementors themselves, and you hadn’t even seen yet.

And frankly you didn’t know what you would do if you did see them. The owner of the shop had asked if anyone knew how to cast a Patronus, but there had only been some vague mumbling about getting pretty close one time. It wasn’t terribly encouraging, and just seemed to make everyone even more upset. Especially the kids. It was a candy shop, so of course it had been full of children, little girls and boys clinging to their mothers legs, faces buried in their hips as they shook, having no idea what was going on, just knowing they were scared…

And crying. Abruptly, all of the children in the store started wailing at the same time, no longer the fearful sniffles of confused kids, but the heart wrenching shrieks of true terror. It made your breath catch in your chest, and you watched with slowly mounting horror as their mothers and fathers tried to console them. But it was like they were all having nightmares they couldn’t wake from. And as you turned away from the bone chilling spectacle, you saw that the sky had grown ever darker. 

You couldn’t stay here. You felt like _you_ were about to start crying, and the anxiety lodged in your chest was telling you to get out. You needed to find Severus, because without him, you were fish in a barrel, and you feared that the cries of these children were merely a warning sign. Or a dinner bell.

Ignoring the protests of the few wizards who were stationed with you by the windows, you pushed open the door of the shop, not even sparing a glance back as you ran out onto the abandoned street. The men from earlier had moved on, apparently, and you pulled your wand out from your satchel as you slowly made your way down the street. It felt wrong, to move quickly. Like shattering the silence and the stillness was going to attract the attention of a predator. And… you figured that might be true. You felt like you were drenched in cold sweat, the sickening feeling of fear weighing heavily in your guts as you headed for the alleyway that would take you to the Leaky. 

You heard another abrupt uproar of screams and crying coming from the direction of the alleyway, and you thought of the children and their eerie siren call. Shit… _Shit_ you were scared! And in a fit of panic, you started running. You were an idiot. Leaving the store had been a stupid idea. Running was a stupid idea! But in this moment you just wanted to be around other people and if Severus was still with the people trying to get into the-

You screamed as your foot slipped out from under you, your outstretched hands catching your fall against the cobbled street. Tears sprang to your eyes immediately at the searing burn that shot up your arms from the fresh scrapes on your hands, and you whimpered as you fell to the ground, sitting on your hip as you looked back to see what you had skidded on. 

It was a wand.

Made of black lacquered wood, with Chinese symbols carved into the handle. 

All of your pain was forgotten as your adrenalin spiked. You snatched the wand from the ground and forced yourself to your feet, stumbling slightly as you turned around in a circle, resisting screaming his name as you clutched his wand to your chest.

And then you saw him. A crumpled heap on the other side of the street, surrounded by the books you’d come here to buy, staring blankly up at the sky as he writhed weakly on the ground. And this time, you _did_ scream his name, taking off across the street and falling to your knees beside him.

“Severus,” you gasped, dropping both of your wands to the ground as you reached your hands out, not even noticing your blood smearing against his cheeks as you cupped his face. “Severus? Baby?” He wasn’t looking at you. He wasn’t even _seeing_ you, you realized, his eyes glazed over as he took shallow, shuddering breaths. And the fear was coming back now, because you’d never been on this side of the scenario before. He was always the one saving _you_. He was always the one that knew exactly what to do when you were in trouble. When you were hurt, or scared, or anxious. He’d know exactly what to say, which potion to give you, the proper spell to cast. But your mind was utterly blank as you stared into those coal black eyes, and found them uncomprehendingly staring back.

And reflected in their glassy depths, you saw them.

You turned quickly, staring up into the sky as two black, swirling figures began their descent from the heavy clouds. Down the street, you could hear the moans and cries from the crowd stuck in the alley, and that seemed to entice one of them away. But the second Dementor seemed to have its trajectory set on course for you. But instead of fear… instead of dread or terror or despair, what you mostly felt was _anger_.

This wasn’t _fair_. What had you done, what had _any_ of these people done, to be thrown into turmoil like this? These creatures weren’t here to help, to keep anyone safe from the threat of an escaped convict. They were here to feed, to cause as much terror as possible so they could get their fill. And they were quite clearly succeeding, but you didn’t want to surrender to them. You’d only just started your new life with this man. You’d finally found loyalty after years of betrayal. Finally felt satisfied with where you were in your life. 

You turned your back on the approaching dementor to snatch your wand up from the ground. You’d never done this before. Bending over Severus, you peered down into his hollow eyes, stared at your blood caked on his sallow cheeks. Closing your eyes tightly, you pressed your lips to his forehead, forcing yourself to think of every tender moment you’d ever shared with him. Your first kiss in the Hog’s Head. Your first time making love in his bed. The day that he’d finally returned your sentiments, and told you that he loved you, too.

You had a future ahead of you. Something worth building. Someone worth building it with. And you weren’t going to allow these fucking monsters to suck that out of you. Out of either of you.

You pushed yourself to your feet, rounding on the Dementor that had settled on the street ahead of you. Against the overwhelming smell of rot, the rattling sound of its foul breath, the sight of its mottled skin under tattered robes, you lifted your wand with fierce determination before crying out, “_Expecto Patronum_!”

-S-

You were stuck in a loop of thought, like a record skipping over the same spot, over and over again, unable to go back or continue forward. Just the same god awful memories replaying ceaselessly, and you were paralyzed to do any damn thing about it. For the first time in a very long time, you’d lost your grip on the control your prided yourself in having over your thoughts and emotions. The Dementors, the assault, the possibility of losing someone else… all had combined to create a litany of agony, turning the calm, flat surface of your mind into a roiling ocean of disquiet. 

But then you felt hands against your face. They were warm, and wet, and you could _feel_ them, but the sensation was far away, like a lighthouse blinking on a distant shore. Still, it was a landmark, something to concentrate on. You heard your name, called frantically from that far off shore, and you followed it. The touch and the sound and the sensation. They felt like _real_ things, not like the cold flickers of the past you were stuck in. Even when the hands were removed, when the voice stopped calling, you could still see the path marked clearly through the dark, and you followed it, desperate leave those memories where they _belonged_.

Then suddenly, the distant blinking turned into a great flash of brilliant light, and you were no longer slogging through darkness, but breaching the surface of your troubled mind like a drowning man, inhaling your first full lungful of air in what felt like _hours_. Your vision came back in to focus, just in time to see Gwendolyn standing over you, her arm outstretched as a great silver bat burst forth from her wand. The winged creature swooped high, its teeth bared as it dove down at the encroaching Dementor, causing the vile fiend to jerk back, withdrawing towards its partner which was looming over the alley full of people. The bat did not relent however, following both monsters with a ferocity rather uncharacteristic for a Patronus, causing both Dementors to retreat towards the darkened sky with haste.

Gwendolyn was watching with rapt awe as her first ever corporeal Patronus chased after the Dementors like… well… _like a bat out of hell_. And all you could do was watch _her_. She looked positively radiant, even as her arms fell to her sides, and her knees buckled beneath her. She crumpled to the ground, still starting up at the slowly clearing sky. You pushed yourself up with a groan, your body stiff and achy from the kicks and knockback jinx you’d received, as well as just from laying in the middle of the road for god knew how long. Your head was pounding, and you felt like you actually had been drowning, your body soaked with cold sweat and damp rain. But you weren’t upright for long, as arms were suddenly flung around your neck, and lips were crushed against your own.

She was simultaneously crying and laughing, fat tears rolling down her freckled cheeks as she giggled breathlessly. “It’s a bat!” she cried, sounding both exhilarated and terrified as she gazed down at you, scrubbing at your cheeks with the sleeve of her shirt. You saw smears of blood on the heels of her hands. You knew you had similar marks on your own. “A great big bloody bat!” her giggles tapered down into sniffles, and swiped at her cheeks with her hands. “Does that… that mean anything?” she asked childishly, and you remembered how young she was.

Reaching up, you wiped her tears away for her, careful not to transfer any blood onto her own face. A bat… A great big bloody one, as she’d so eloquently put it. For the second time today, you wondered if you should be offended or flattered. But that thought barely lasted a moment because you knew… knew how substantial it was, that the creature that she had chosen as her protector was a reflection of yourself. “Not anything we don’t already know,” you whispered, your voice sounding rough and harsh in your own ears. But she smiled down at you anyway, her tears still flowing as she kissed you again. You had the passing thought, that maybe you ought to get out of the middle of the street. People were emerging from the stores and alleyways all around you now. But she wasn’t getting up, and you sure as hell weren’t going to make her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Art by BlooeyedTroll!](https://blooeyedtroll.tumblr.com/post/188142449889/defense-snoodetober-october-4th-2019-bonus)   



	6. Scent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: Got this one done on time :”333
> 
> Length: 1406
> 
> Rating: Hard T
> 
> Warnings: Callback to Lockhart and what he did in Chapter 11 of Dream Sequence.

“I’ve been thinking…”

His warm baritone pulled you out of your concentration, and you peered up from your book to find him exactly where he’d been standing for the last half an hour; bent over a cauldron at the nearest work station in his private lab, working on a potion he’d claimed was for lecture purposes only. He hadn’t bothered to tell you what the lecture would be on, and you hadn’t asked. He’d told you he didn’t require your assistance to brew (shocking) as he’d already been working on it for a few days, but he wouldn’t mind your company if you wanted to stick around. You’d accepted his offer gladly, summoning the soft, brown leather chair you had dreamed of curling up in as a student… and made your dreams come true by doing exactly that. You’d been reading a new collection of Stephen King novellas, and you’d just been getting to the meat of _The Langoliers_ when he’d spoken up.

“That’s dangerous,” you quipped, folding down a corner of the page and closing the book, tucking it between your hip and the back of the chair, as you were draped across the arms. Your smirk only grew wider when he rolled his eyes.

“I’m being serious,” he objected, and you were ever so tempted to remind him that he was _always_ exceedingly serious. But you kept that little witticism to yourself this time. It was much too late to be razzing him.

“What were you thinking then, love?” you prompted, yawning into your hand before tilting your head towards him. You watched as he carefully measured out a teaspoon of some pearlescent powder, using the back of a silver knife to level the spoon, before carefully shaking it over the surface of the potion.

“I was hoping you could help me with an upcoming lecture.” 

Your eyebrows shot up at the suggestion, and you lifted your head from where it was propped against the armrest. “The lecture for the potion you’re brewing?” you asked, and he nodded with a quiet ‘_mmhmm’_. You sat up slowly, feeling a few of your bones pop as you righted yourself in the chair, you know, how chairs were _supposed_ to be sat in, and grimaced a little as you rubbed your back. “And which potion would that be?”

Severus hesitated then, appearing to be concentrating on counting the number of turns he was giving with the stirring rod. But you knew apprehension when you saw it. Rising slowly from your chair, you made your way across the room to his work table, standing on the opposite side of the cauldron as you watched spiraling wisps of steam began to rise from the glossy surface of the potion. 

“Amortentia,” he finally answered as he removed the stirring rod, looking cautious as he lifted his gaze to meet yours. You… weren’t pleased by this. At all. And he must have seen the apprehension on your face. Must have been expecting it, as he reached across the table to cup his hand over yours. “You always said you weren’t sure if you did the right thing, not telling people about Lockhart. About what he did.” He brushed his thumb over the soft skin of your wrist, and your eyes drifted down to your joined hands. “It’s unfortunate that some students, mostly young girls, have these… starry-eyed ideals, in regards to love potions. They think they’re dreamy. Romanic. And they don’t have the faintest idea of what love potions can really do. Or what they’re really used for.”

You shuddered, the tremor gripping your whole body, and prompting him to step around to your side of the table. You accepted his embrace readily, pressing your forehead against his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around you. “Lockhart is still in Saint Mungos,” he reminded you firmly, lifting one hand to smooth down your hair. “It doesn’t matter anymore, whether he was famous or not. You told me in a letter once, that you were worried he may have taken advantage of more people. And that you might have been able to prevent it, if you had actually reported him.”

He pulled back from his hold, and you lifted your face from his shoulder, nodding miserably as you remembered that letter quite vividly. Severus nodded in return, pushing your hair out of your face before brushing his thumb soothing against your jaw. “I thought you might… Might like to have the opportunity. To finally tell your story, or at least a version of it, and be able to help others in the process.” 

You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth as you gazed up at him, and he leaned forward, placing a kiss between your furrowed brows. It almost instantly dissolved the tension in your face, and you huffed out a little laugh as you leaned into him again. “I brewed the Amortentia so that they’ll have an idea of what to look for, if they’re ever faced with it,” he explained, tilting his head over towards the shimmering cauldron, the mother-of-pearl surface gleaming brightly as corkscrews of steam continued to rise. “Know what it looks like. Know how it smells. Know what potions to take if they are ever dosed with it. They won’t get to know how it tastes, but that’s okay, because you’ll be able to tell them.” 

You snapped your head around in a panic, opening your mouth to protest, but he placed a finger to your lips. “You were _not_ given Amortentia,” he assured you, and you eased slightly. “You were given a really, really _terribly_ _brewed_ Amortentia that was subsequently mixed with alcohol, which I believe was the reason for the headaches you experienced.” You pouted, but nodded. That made sense. You knew there were all types of love potions out there, but the truth was that they were all just cheap variations of Amortentia. 

“I regret not giving a lesson like this years ago,” he said softly, and you shifted your attention from the potion, back to him. “I never wanted to even _touch_ love potions in my class. I thought they were frivolous, and would give people the wrong impression. But… I was thinking, perhaps educating the students on the dangers that they pose might be a… decent alternative…” He looked almost bashful as he glanced away from you, and you finally felt yourself begin to relax, a small smile spreading on to your face. 

It was… terribly sweet, actually, that he wanted to do this. Not just for his students, but for you. Giving you the chance to resolve the guilt you felt over never reporting Lockhart. Maybe even putting some closure on it, especially if it helped even one person avoid being manipulated as you had been. You rested your head on his shoulder again, looking into the swirling mist that rose from the cauldron. It wasn’t romantic at all. Love potions were utterly vile, as far as you were concerned… but from the stance of being an educator… from the point of view of a Potions Master… Amortentia was really quite elegant.

“Fireplace,” you said softly, and you felt more than heard the confused grunt from Severus’ throat. “Rain on fallen leaves,” you continued, closing your eyes as you breathed in deeply, filling your lungs with the scent of him. “Teakwood, coriander and clove-bud.” You turned your face up to him, and grinned at the stunned expression on his face. You reached up to mirror his motion from before, brushing your thumb over the sharp cut of his jaw, and his astonishment melted into adoration. 

He turned his face slightly, and pressed a soft kiss to your thumb as he too took a deep breath. “Warm butter,” he murmured softly, and your smile widened, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Bees wax.” He hummed as he buried his face in your hair, rubbing his palms over the small of your back as he held you close. “Vanilla. Lemon. Roses. I thought this would be good for you…” he trailed off.

“I’ll do it,” you answered, finally, and you felt his arms tighten slightly around you. “Gladly, in fact. I think it’s a fantastic idea.” You lifted your head, and he did the same, still looking slightly apprehensive. But you kissed the tip of his nose, which he always pretended to hate, and smiled up at him gratefully. “Thank you, Severus.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Art by BlooeyedTroll!!](https://BlooeyedTroll.tumblr.com/post/188175379019/scent-snoodetober-october-5th-2019-fireplace)   



	7. Transfigure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: Short, but sweet uvu and hopefully hilarious
> 
> Length: 649
> 
> Rating: G
> 
> Warnings: None

You already had your face buried in your arms on top of your desk when you heard the _woosh_ of the Floo. You had reluctantly called Severus for some… ah… _assistance_, regarding one of your more monumental Transfiguration fuck-ups. And you absolutely did not want to see his face once he entered your office to assess the situation. You heard the flames burst into life in your fireplace, heard his sharp footsteps on the stone floor of your small office… and heard his amused snort the second he saw what you had done.

“Merlin’s beard, Gwen,” he chuckled, and you wished you could lift your head to see his smile, see him laugh. It was always such a rare occurrence. But the fact that he was laughing at _your expense_… well… this was all just horribly humiliating.

“Can you fix it?” you whimpered into your arms. Your desk had started to fidget beneath you, and you were forced to lift your head a little to accommodate it, but your hair kept your line of sight perfectly Severus’-Dumb-Smug-Face Free.

“Fix it? How did you even _cause_ it?” he asked, taking a step towards you and patting his hand against the desk, almost affectionately. “This would actually be impressive if I knew you had done it on purpose.”

You gave a long suffering sigh as you finally lifted your face to his, pouting quite unabashedly as you glanced from him, to his hand, and back down to your desk. “I was trying to tidy up,” you confessed, dropping your arms to your sides and just placing your cheek against the desk, the surface tickling your cheek with short, bristly hair. “I thought I knew an organization spell but I ended up with…” You sighed again, propping your chin up on the desk as you peered up at him, giving your best approximation of puppy-dog eyes, knowing full well that they would have absolutely no effect on Severus Snape. “Are you going to help me?”

Severus seemed to consider your request for a long time, and you knew, you absolutely _knew_ that he was about to fuck with you. You whined petulantly, kicking your heels against the floor in frustration, like a toddler who simply was not getting her way. Your desk grunted disapprovingly at your theatrics. “I don’t know, honeybee. This is some _pretty advanced_ Transfiguration you’ve somehow managed to pull off,” he explained, sounding ever so calm and reasonable. You would hex him into next week if he hadn’t just called you _honeybee_. “Perhaps I ought to go and get McGonagall-”

“Don’t you _dare!_” your shrieked, finally sitting up straight and smacking your hands against your desk for emphasis. This, however, caused your desk to jump and squeal with alarm, and you gasped, gently petting your hands against it calmingly. “Sorry! Sorry, I’m sorry sweetie…” you cooed, reaching over to run your hand over soft, floppy ears, your other hand soothing over a squat pink snout.

The pig you’d managed to transform your desk into did not look amused, its trotters clicking against the stone floor as it fidgeted restlessly. You glared up at Severus, who was holding his hand over his mouth and nose, clearly trying his damnedest not to just laugh out loud. You knew you would look back on this moment fondly one day, but right now, you were going to _kill_ him if he even so much as _thought_ about going to get McGonagall. “Would you _please_-”

“Yes, yes. Alright,” he relented, though that smug grin was still plastered on his face as he took out his wand. “Next time you want to clean up your _pigsty_ of an office, do try to do it the muggle way?” he suggested, and you buried your face in your hands and screamed into them, just as you dropped your face back onto your mahogany desk once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Art by BlooeyedTroll!](https://BlooeyedTroll.tumblr.com/post/188178004904/transfigure-snoodetober-october-6th-2019)   



	8. Genderbent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: GOD. This was DUMB. And FUN XD
> 
> Length: 1943
> 
> Rating: M
> 
> Warnings: LOTS of innuendo

Of all the absurd things that had happened since you became a professor at Hogwarts, this one really had to be the most bizarre. Weird things happened all the time; it was simply an inevitability of being a citizen of the wizarding world. But for classes to be canceled for an entire day, simply because of a prank gone wrong, was really quite an exceptional feat. It wasn’t school wide pandemonium, thank god. But a great deal of the student body, as well as a majority of the staff, had found themselves in a considerably awkward position this morning, simply because they had decided to take their coffee black with breakfast. Coffee that had been tampered with. By Fred and George Weasley.

They had _insisted_ that their sole target had been their older brother, Percy. That Percy was being a pretentious git by pretending he actually enjoyed drinking black coffee, when they knew _for a fact_ he took cream, sugar _and_ flavoring when he was at home. The potion they’d slipped into the kitchens was powerful, but unstable. Unstable enough that the addition of cream or sugar to it would render the potion inert. What Fred and George hadn’t counted on, however, was how many _other_ people also pretended to enjoy black coffee. And they also hadn’t counted on needing an antidote for over 50 people.

Yourself and Severus included.

The Great Hall had been mayhem when the potion first started revealing its effects. There were wild fluctuations in height and hair, some people slipping out of their shoes as their feet shrank, or splitting them at the seams if they grew. Thankfully, most students were wearing loose robes and cloaks, which effectively hid the more embarrassing wardrobe failures that were taking place. But it was still incredibly alarming for one’s body to undergo such a rapid and drastic change in such a short amount of time. Only Albus Dumbledore, who thankfully drank _tea_ every morning, was able to calm the situation. He’d ordered all unaffected students to return to their dorms, and asked the other less fortunate students to proceed to the hospital wing, where they would be provided with more appropriate uniforms until such a time when they could figure out _what the hell had just happened_.

Fred and George had confessed immediately, the boys knowing when they had screwed up bad enough to warrant it. They told Dumbledore the potion they had used, something they had found in a book about spying and espionage, and handed over both the book and the single bottle of antidote they had made for Percy. Albus had immediately handed both items off to Severus, and insisted that the both of you start brewing batches of antidote as quickly as possible… after the two of you got yourselves situated, of course. 

Which was what you were attempting now. You’d both made your way down to the dungeons, Severus occasionally tripping over their now over large shoes, and you yourself feeling like a sausage incased in much too tight clothing. Severus had shrunk down about six inches, while you had shot up. Your body had broadened in the most inconvenient of places, the blouse you’d pulled on this morning nearly bursting at the seams, and your jeans felt like they were cutting off circulation to the lower half of your body, which was especially uncomfortable considering all of the new… _hardware_… that you were now in possession of. 

Severus had wasted no time rummaging through one of their drawers (the drawer where you sometimes kept an outfit or two, you realized) before they immediately locked themselves in the bathroom, and you were left alone in the bedroom to peel off your offending clothing. Severus didn’t have a mirror in the room, but you were able to see yourself in the dark reflection of the window that looked out over the bottom of the black lake.

You were a _dude_. 

The potion was intended to completely change a person’s appearance, for the purpose of going incognito. It was not unlike Polyjuice potion, but instead of turning into someone else, you remained yourself. Just… _genderbent_. Your hair was still long and wavy… but as it turned out, so was your beard. You lifted your hands to run your fingers through it (your thicker fingers, which were attached to broader hands and more muscular arms, which were also sporting a smattering of much darker hair than you were used to), before rubbing your hand over the swath of thick curls that now covered your chest. If Severus was here, you might have made the joke that the size of your chest hadn’t changed all that much, but they were still locked away in the bathroom. You wondered if they were hogging the mirror. You continued your exploration southward, and boy. That sure was a dick. You didn’t even want to touch it, and yet, at the same time, _all you wanted to do was touch it_. Hmmmmm….. Now wasn’t the time. You had antidote to brew, after all, and you didn’t have time to be… dicking around (_Hehe_!).

The first order of business was to find some damn clothes that fit. While you appeared to be a bit more muscular than Severus, you didn’t exactly have a whole lot of options. It felt so… _so_ wrong to be slipping into a pair of your partners white briefs, shimmying into a pair of men’s slacks (_why was the zipper on the other side?_), and buttoning up one of the older, more ill-fitting dress shirts that Severus still kept out of habit. But thank god, the shoes fit. You were just tying up the laces when you heard the bathroom door finally creak open, and you looked up quickly from where you sat by the window.

Your first thought, one that you would never say out loud for all of the galleons in the world, was that Severus now looked a lot like their mother. You’d seen a scant handful of photos on the wall at Spinners End the few times you had been there. You thought Eileen had been rather pretty, in a melancholic sort of way. She’d had beautiful long eyelashes, and sharp, elegant features, and could have been quite radiant, if she hadn’t been so trodden down. It was clear that she had not been a happy woman in life, which was heartbreaking. Severus said she had deserved better, and you tended to agree.

Severus was not looking melancholic though. You were pleased to find your clothes fit well enough; a pair of dark blue jeans and an old David Bowie ringer T-shirt that you were unwilling to part with. Severus wasn’t particularly buxom, still looking just as lithe and skinny as ever, but there were curves at the waist and the hip that had not been there before, and you found that you quite liked the look. But the expression on Severus’ face was one of absolute loathing. Clearly, not as thrilled with the situation as you were. Which was unfortunate, because you were absolutely chuffed about the whole thing.

“Hey, beautiful,” you crooned, and you were stunned to hear how deep and honeyed your voice had become. But you didn’t let your shock overwhelm you, as you watched Severus look you over, that loathing having turned into something more conflicted. And you hoped they were conflicted over how handsome you were, and not about which hex to cast on you.

“You look entirely too pleased with yourself,” Severus sighed, voice still melodious, but somehow lighter. They rolled their eyes as they padded across the room towards you in bare feet, and you stood, enjoying the sensation of being the tall one for once. Severus stared up at you, arching a finer, thinner brow than usual, and all you could do was beam. Would they let you kiss them? Would the beard make it weird? Was Severus just so totally disgusted with the situation that even _suggesting_ you make love like this be ill received? You figured you could just brew the original potion again, if you ever got curious, ever wanted to experiment without the looming pressure of having to turn 50 other people back to their former state as soon as possible. But would Severus even be up for that?

Then Severus leaned forward, simply walking into you and pressing their face against your shoulder with an exasperated sigh, and you relished the sensation of wrapping your arms around them. It felt… weird. But it felt nice. Their hair was finer and softer under your cheek, and the lithe arms that wrapped around your waist felt both foreign and familiar. “It’s been a while since I’ve been with a woman,” you teased, voice sounding husky to your own ears as you placed a kiss on the top of their head, and you chuckled when your moustache made the sensation all the more peculiar. “And certainly never quite like this.”

A warm puff of breath skittered against your neck as Severus snorted, and they pulled back to look up at you incredulously. “You’ve had a penis for less than 20 minutes and it’s already taken over,” they deadpanned, and you threw your head back with a sudden burst of deep, booming laughter. 

“Can you actually blame me?” you protested, giving a seductive roll of your hips against theirs, and Severus’s cheeks _actually_ went a little pink. That was a cute development, and you quite liked the look of that soft, flushed face gazing up at you. “I can hardly walk without being constantly reminded that it’s there.”

Severus rolled their eyes, shaking their head with vexation. “You get used to it,” they assured you, but even with how clearly irritated they were, you couldn’t get the broad grin off of your face to save your life. You were just having too much fun.

“I _guess_,” you sighed dramatically, reaching up to run your fingers through soft, dark locks, but Severus smacked your hand away with an unamused scowl. Well, at least they were still the same old Severus on the inside. 

“We have work to do,” Severus reminded you, and you sighed theatrically again, finally relenting your hold and taking a step back. 

“I know, I know. But maybe just… keep a copy of the original potion?” you pleaded, following after Severus as they made their way to the walk in closet, snagging a pair of trainers that you’d forgotten you’d left in there. They turned around, face as inscrutable as ever, as you winced bashfully. “For uh… future reference?” you suggested with a timid shrug, but you knew your face was stupidly hopeful. You were a woman (man?) who craved new experiences and thrived on adventure. And this was about as adventurous as it got. 

And you knew that Severus knew that, too. They sighed again, rolling their eyes as they leaned against the bed to start tugging on your shoes. “I’ll _think_ about it. But don’t start getting any bright ideas while we’re brewing. We’re sort of on a tight schedule here.” 

You beamed, mind already teaming with dozens of bright, delicious, naughty ideas, and Severus could only manage another withering look before snatching up the Weasley twins ill-gotten book, heading for the bedroom door. You followed dutifully, quite ready to get on with the potion making, but not before slipping your hand into the back pocket of what were _technically_ your jeans, and giving a gentle squeeze. Severus yelped and smacked you in the chest with the book, and you found yourself laughing deeply again as you followed them out to the lab.

Bonus:

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Art by BlooeyedTroll!](https://BlooeyedTroll.tumblr.com/post/188274812634/snoodetober-2019)
> 
> [Art by thepomegranatejuice!](https://thepomegranatejuice.tumblr.com/post/188201119303/when-drawing-snape-some-time-ago-i-somehow-ended)


	9. Baking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: Sev’s POV again! Also major callbacks to chapter 4 of Dream Sequence
> 
> Length: 2276
> 
> Rating: T
> 
> Warnings: F e e l s. Also, I guess slight spoilers for a scene that hasn’t actually happened in Dream Sequence yet.

It was like déjà vu, standing in the entrance to the kitchens like this. Six years ago you had been in the same spot, watching silently as a fourth year Hufflepuff bopped around the kitchens singing Queen, merrily making trays full of cookies for her friends, completely heedless of the multitude of rules she’d been breaking. And you had been… surprisingly lenient with her. Surprising to yourself, mostly. Had it been any other student, you would have sent them packing back to their dorms, promising that a week’s worth of detention would be waiting for them when they returned from Winter Holiday. But… you’d always had a soft spot for _this_ particular student. This poor, half-blooded, wickedly smart student, who, despite your best efforts, had successfully managed to chip away at your defenses and wheedle her way into your life.

The scene was almost exactly the same today, except the fourth year Hufflepuff was now a stunningly beautiful woman. She was still bopping away around the kitchens, her wizarding wireless broadcasting The Doors this time, as she loaded up baking sheet after baking sheet with carefully crafted little cookies. 

It was moments like these, when you would watch her from a distance, without her knowing you were doing so, that made you wonder just… how the hell had you ended up with her? How had your life taken such a turn that you found yourself in a relationship with a former student? And not just a passing fling, but an actual, honest to god, dare you even say _healthy_ relationship? Why had you given up on your crusade of solitude to allow her in? Why did _she_ put up with all of your gloomy, sullen bullshit? She was a bright, radiant sunspot and you were… well… _you_. You very often felt like she deserved better. Someone younger, less jaded. Someone who could match her energy and vibrancy. Which was why you liked watching her like this, because it was affirmation that it wasn’t all an act. She wasn’t just pretending to be happy, to be content, _despite_ being with you. She was _actually_ like this. _All the time_. 

You felt a _bit_ like a cradle robber, remembering how young she had been when she’d first entered your life. She’d always been remarkably mature for her age; probably one of the few students you’d ever had that you didn’t mind carrying on a conversation with. She was smart as a whip, sharp as a tack, but she was also naïve and vulnerable, and, for some reason, had looked to _you_ for guidance. And all of that had left an impression on you. And continued to do so. After finally bending to her sincerity about her feelings for you, you found that she could keep up with your intellect, was tolerant of your snark, and was more than capable of turning it around and feeding it right back to you in droves. But she never stopped being that bubbly Hufflepuff you’d always known her to be, either. Despite the shit hand she’d been dealt over the last several years, she never turned bitter. Which was more than you could say for yourself. It was admirable.

The first batch of crescent cakes was out of the oven, and that was your cue to make your presence known; sweet, buttery incentive. You moved silently across the room as you approached, and she was just as easy to sneak up on now as she was then. She was thoroughly absorbed in her radio, humming along to ‘People Are Strange’ as she carefully shaped each individual moon shaped biscuit, lining them up like soldiers on a fresh tray. You watched carefully over her shoulder, her obliviousness rather alarming, actually. She really ought to be more vigilant of her surround-

She tilted her head back, back, backwards, until the top of her head tapped against your chest, and she grinned widely as she gazed upside down at you. You arched a brow at her astronomical cheekiness, and she burst into giggles, stumbling a little as she lost her balance, given the strange angle. You caught her in your arms, allowing her to straighten up and regain her equilibrium. “Either you’ve become more observant, or I’m losing my touch,” you mused, and instead of moving away to give her room to breathe, you stepped closer, pressing your chest to her back and wrapping your arms around her slender waist.

She giggled again, getting right back into the task at hand, continuing to pull off globs of dough and rolling them between her palms before curving them into crescents. “I’ve always been observant!” she protested, though her voice was just as cheeky as her grin. “Just not when Queen is playing. You got lucky last time.” You rolled your eyes, filing that little tidbit of information away for further analysis at a later date. 

“Do you think Jim Morrison was a wizard too?” you asked casually, pressing your mouth against her shoulder as you continued watching her hands. Green nail polish today, you observed. It was quickly becoming her signature fall color. You heard her hum sadly at your question, and you tilted your head to get a profile view of her face.

“Gone too soon,” she sighed morosely as she shook her head. “But no, I don’t think so. Though I wouldn’t put it past Robby Kreiger. You’ve heard the full version of ‘Light My Fire’. He didn’t learn how to play the guitar like that on acid alone.” You snorted, and she giggled again, leaning her head gently against yours. It… was a very affectionate gesture, like a cat rubbing against its human’s legs, and it just felt natural to tilt your head in return, pressing your lips to the soft skin of her neck. Everything about being with her felt natural, and you were still having a difficult time processing it.

“Why are you baking four dozen crescent cakes in the middle of the night on a Tuesday?” you asked, the words tasting awfully familiar in your mouth. And they must have sounded familiar to her ears, because she full out laughed this time, placing the last cake onto the last tray, grabbing up a tea towel to wipe the excess dough from her hands.

“Right to the point this time,” she mused, and you rolled your eyes, hiding your grin in her cardigan. “Well, I’m baking in the middle of the night because the House Elves would never let me in here otherwise,” she explained with a grin. But then she hesitated, smile slipping away as she stared down at the trays of cookies, before reaching up for the recipe card that had been charmed to float in the air. It wasn’t the same butter smeared card as last time. This seemed to be a fresh copy, but still written in the same neat script as the last one. She plucked it from the air, holding it with both hands as she gazed fondly over the recipe. “It’s been a while since I made these myself,” she admitted. “I just wanted to get some practice in, so I had mum owl me the recipe.”

You were unsure as to why her mood had shifted so drastically, and you feared you were missing something vital. “Practice for what?” you inquired, and you felt her body tense slightly against your own. You heard alarm bells ringing in your head, and you straightened up, loosening your hold on her waist. She promptly turned around to face you, still enclosed by your arms. She looked anxious, and that made _you_ anxious, and you swallowed back the trepidation in your throat.

“You said your mother used to make these, right?” she asked timidly, unable to fully look you in the eye, as she glanced back and forth from your face to the card she still held in her hands. You were taken aback by her question, and while it eased some of the tension her serious mood had brought about, it also raised a fresh multitude of new questions. You also couldn’t believe that she remembered that.

“She did, yes,” you answered carefully, your brows furrowing together in your confusion. “Why do you ask?” She fidgeted again, tugging her bottom lip between her teeth, and her clear apprehension only made your heart thud impatiently. You wished she would just get on with it and spare you this agony. 

“Don’t get mad, okay?” she requested, and this time both of your eyebrows shot up your forehead. She laughed nervously at your surprise, and seemed to realize that she wasn’t making any damn sense. She shook her head, as if hoping whatever was rattling around inside would settle down into some sort of cohesive order. You rather hoped it did too. She took a deep, steadying breath, before her hazel eyes finally met yours. “I’m sorry if it’s presumptuous. But I was wondering if you might like to put together a Samhain alter for her this year.”

Your mouth fell open slightly, and you found yourself perfectly speechless. She seemed to take this as a negative reaction, for she immediately launched into an explanation, the words tumbling out of her mouth like a waterfall. “I know the stuff my mum does isn’t real magic, but we’ve been celebrating Samhain since I was a little kid. We’d honor some of moms old friends that she’d lost over the years, with an altar and offerings and everything. I looked up the real rituals that _actual_ witches and wizards do and I just thought-”

You cut her off by grabbing her arms and placing your mouth over hers. She squeaked, but instantly reciprocated, melting into your touch and kissing you back tenderly as she pressed her hands against your chest, recipe card fluttering to the ground. It gave you some time to process her suggestion, to wrap your head around the fact that she wanted to do this. For you. To honor a woman she’d never even met before. Someone she’d only ever known through the things that you’ve told her. Through simply being the man your mother had done her best to raise. And the affection you felt for her swelled near to bursting as you pulled back, staring down into her sweet face, at those worried, hopeful eyes, and her flushed, parted lips. 

“I love you,” you murmured, and her face split into a wide smile, like it did every time you told her that, because you reserved the phrase for only the warmest of moments. Moments like these, when you were reminded of how devoted she was to this. To you. Your hands fell from her arms, settling down on her hips instead, and she lifted her hands to loop her arms around your neck. 

“So you want to do it?” she asked shyly for clarification. And you could see the glimmer of possibility in her eyes. All the plans that she’d been making in the hopes you would say yes. Going so far as to practice making cookies, you could only assume were for the offering she’d suggested. You didn’t even need to use Legilimency to know that her intentions were so pure, so innocent. And all for you.

“I’d like that,” you admitted, your voice dropping to a raspy octave. And your heart ached in your chest as she gasped happily, tightening her hold around your shoulders, pulling you down into a proper embrace. You held her tightly as you buried your face in her flaxen hair, and swallowed back your brimming emotions as you considered your next words very carefully. “There’s just one thing…”

She leaned back cautiously, gazing up at you with a glint of curiosity. “Anything,” she encouraged softly, lifting one hand to your face and smoothing her thumb over your cheek. You must not have been doing such a good job at quelling your feelings at this moment. And perhaps that wasn’t such a bad thing. Or at least not unusual. You were feeling quite overwhelmed by thoughts and memories you hadn’t dared to explore in nearly 14 years. 

“There’s one other person I’d like to include on the altar,” you suggested quietly, and you couldn’t look at her as you did. You _couldn’t_. Because you still hadn’t resolved the feeling that had betrayed _her_, by allowing yourself the chance to try and be happy, by being with Gwen. You told yourself over and over again that once upon a time, she would have been happy for you. Would have wanted you to move on from her. But even as you stood in the arms of another woman, you still loved Lily Evans _so much_. And the weight of it was often more than you could bare.

But Gwen was still stroking your cheek, and as you lifted your eyes reluctantly to meet hers, you found her smiling compassionately. “Of course,” she whispered earnestly, the sincerity in her voice soothing the ache in your chest. Because she knew. Knew exactly who you spoke of. New precisely what you were feeling. Explaining it to her had been excruciating at the time… But she’d been so accepting. So understanding and willing to do whatever it was that you needed in order to find reconciliation. You still hadn’t, not really. But you were trying. You were a very difficult man, you knew. But Gwendolyn was an extremely patient woman.

And she loved you.

Only three women had ever really loved you. You hadn’t done the best job maintaining that love with two of them. But god, were you determined to do it right this time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Art by BlooeyedTroll!](https://BlooeyedTroll.tumblr.com/post/188309914024/snoodetober-2019)
> 
> [Miniatures by thepomegranatejuice!](https://thepomegranatejuice.tumblr.com/post/188220502973/so-i-did-some-miniature-clay-baking-this-is-wip)


	10. Mask

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: I’M SO SORRY FOR THE DELAY YWY!! I’m gonna try to get back on track this weekend. Thank you for your patience!
> 
> Length: 3252
> 
> Rating: M
> 
> Warnings: Some naughty touching but nothing too explicit. Some shameless flirting. Alcohol consumption.

_Opulence_.

It was the only way to describe the Malfoy’s annual Samhain masquerade. Decadence, excess, and debauchery also came to mind, but you didn’t actually consider those to be bad things in this setting. The atmosphere was _literally_ rich, both in terms of money, as well as texture, flavors, scents and sights. This was your first time at Malfoy Manor, and it was absolutely magnificent. The ballroom was draped in black and red velvet curtains, all glinting with gold embroidered embellishments, lit only by flame and candle light to make the entire ballroom feel mysterious and ethereal. It was like going to a VIP party in the swanky part of Hell. 

Which was appropriate, seeing as you had the Lord of the Underworld by your side. 

It had taken a great deal of persuasion to convince Severus to even attend the party in the first place. Parties most certainly were not his thing, and to be fair, they weren’t really yours either, after the incident at the Atticus. But this wasn’t just a _party_. This was a _masquerade_. Which meant _masks_. And masks meant getting to wear _art_. He’d been reluctant at first, but you suspected it was your eagerness to fashion something beautiful that wore him down in the end.

He struck an impressive figure as Hades, you thought dreamily, watching him from across the ballroom as he collected champagne for the both of you (_which Lucius Malfoy had personally assured you would not be tampered with, and if it was, there would surely be hell _(_teehee_!)_ to pay_). It had taken considerably less coaxing for him to agree to your costume idea, especially because he still got to wear mostly black. The coat you had transfigured from a set of his dress robes was appropriately menacing, with a high neck, sharp upturned shoulders, and flowing tatters along the hem that brushed the floor when he walked. A silver skull shaped clasp held a pomegranate colored sash that draped across his chest, conjuring the vestige of an ancient and powerful god. Even you had been impressed with your own spell work, considering your track record. But it seemed that transfiguration was more willing to work with you, when you were using it for creative endeavors. It was most evident in the mask he wore, a gleaming black headdress of feather light onyx, its points creating a sinister crown while its face evoked the style of ancient war helmets. It was imposing and powerful, and it was the perfect ominous compliment to your own supple Persephone. 

You _felt_ like a goddess as you lounged on a black velvet chaise, awaiting your lovers return. You thought you ought to be fanned with palm fronds and fed grapes straight from the vine, damn it! You giggled to yourself at the very thought, but you were really living the fantasy tonight. You’d already had a long, flowing, olive green gown in your possession, and it was a simple matter of casting a few well-placed _Orchideous_ charms along the hem, causing multitudes of cherry blossoms to burst forth from the fabric. The shoulders were accented with golden leaves, which mirrored the choker and earrings that you already owned. Your mask was simple in shape, but it too was adorned with cherry blossoms, as well as vibrant honeysuckle, and delicate lace around the edges. But your favorite part was your crown. It had been Severus’ idea, something somber to compliment his own darkness. It was crafted from smoky and rose quartz points, pinned back in your bountiful curls like a halo of crystal. 

Unlike the party at the Atticus, where you felt yourself and your professor were quite drab in comparison, tonight you felt like the most stunning couple in the room. You sat up from your reclined position as Severus finally made his return, looking darker and more menacing than ever. It was a _very_ good look for him, you decided. His searing gaze bore in to yours as he handed you the glass of champagne, and you very deliberately made sure you brush your fingers against his as you took the glass. He sat at the head of the chaise, and you hummed contentedly as you leaned back against him, settling your head against his shoulder. He easily snaked his arm around your waist, before clicking his glass against yours. “So? Is this everything you were expecting?” he murmured into your ear, and you shivered to have his hot breath so close to your neck. He sure was one to talk, as you felt him brushing his thumb over the curve of your hip, catching on the waistband of your panties under the thin fabric. Cheeky bastard. Two could play this game.

“I’m _greatly_ enjoying myself,” you confirmed, taking a sip from your glass as you casually rested your free hand against his knee. “Though I must confess…” You dipped your fingers down to brush along his inner thigh, and you felt his whole body stiffen beneath you. “I can think of a few ways we could enjoy ourselves even _more_.” You tilted your head back to peer up at him, and your mischievous smile widened to see a blossom of pink peeking out from under that dark mask. “How many rooms does this place have anyway?” you teased, and giggled again at the roll of his eyes as he drained half of his glass rather quickly.

“Knowing this crowd, I’m sure half of them are already occupied,” he grumbled, and it only made you laugh even harder. Kinky bunch! But then again, you wouldn’t expect anything less at a Malfoy party. It seemed some people didn’t even _need_ rooms… and maybe you didn’t either.

Moving carefully, you scooted yourself back and sat yourself side-saddle onto his lap, looping your arm around his neck as he shifted his grip to take hold of your thigh. You ran your fingers through his heavy black hair as you leaned in, licking the champagne from his lips, as his mask prevented you from sharing a proper kiss. “In that case,” you whispered, your voice dropping a seductive octave. “You don’t think the Malfoys would kick us out if you were to take me right her-”

“Gwen!”

“Gwendolyn!”

Your entire body jolted as you heard your name in stereo, your heart beating wildly out of your chest. You felt like you’d been caught with your hand in the cookie jar (or down your pants) and you smiled apologetically to Severus, who had clearly been on the verge of scolding you. The call of your full name, however, had been from elsewhere in the room, and you both looked up to see the hosts of the masquerade approaching. Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy had taken the theme of the party quite literally, looking like Satan and his Mistress had taken an elegant jaunt up from Hell for the evening. They wore elaborate rococo style costumes of scarlet and gold, Lucius sporting a wicked looking devil’s mask, while Narcissa wore a simple _colombina_, a delicate red mask with gold filigree, though there did appear to be real goat horns sprouting from her platinum tresses. It had been Narcissa that had called your name, but it was Lucius who looked ready to swallow you whole as they stopped before the chaise. 

“Look at you. Can’t keep your hands off of each other,” Lucius teased good-naturedly as he wrapped an arm around his wife. “I can relate.” Narcissa rolled her eyes affectionately, before you saw her arm disappear behind her husband, and moments later Lucius jumped with surprise. You bit your bottom lip as you imagined what she’d done back there, trying not to giggle. You felt less guilty about getting handsy with your own man now. Lucius straightened up and cleared his throat, before directing his attention to Severus, and holding his hand towards you. 

“You wouldn’t mind terribly if I stole Gwendolyn away for just a moment, would you Severus?” Lucius requested politely, and you felt your heart pick up speed again as you glanced between the proffered hand and your lovers face. Severus’ grip on your knee tightened slightly, and you reached out to cup your hand over it, silently trying to assure him it was alright. Truthfully, you hadn’t seen the Malfoy’s since that night at The Atticus, aside from the pleasantries you’d exchanged when you’d first arrived earlier this evening. So while you were slightly apprehensive, you also felt like you could hold your own against them now, if you had to. You also weren’t intimidated by them; they had included your name on the invitation _specifically_, not just as some faceless plus one. Severus looked to you now, searching your eyes… searching _beyond_ them, and you pushed forward all of your feelings of love and devotion and determination. You would be okay. You could handle Lucius Malfoy. And you wanted to prove yourself to them anyway. He sighed through his nose, but nodded, and you leaned forward to peck a kiss to the cheek of his mask. 

“I’ll keep him company while you’re off cavorting with my husband,” Narcissa offered dramatically, plucking the champagne glass from your fingers and taking a sip from it herself. You didn’t miss how the tip of her tongue swiped against your lipgloss on the rim of the glass, and you felt your face go pink as you nervously took Lucius’ hand. He helped haul you to your feet, and Narcissa gracefully sat herself beside Severus, resting her arm across the back of the chaise behind him, leaning in close, her bosom ready to pop out of the neckline of her dress. Severus simply crossed his legs at the knee, taking on the well-honed defensive posture you’d seen him don before, and you offered him a sympathetic smile. But before you could wish them goodbye, Lucius had slipped his arm around your waist and whisked you away in the opposite direction.

“Do you dance, Gwendolyn?” Lucius asked conversationally, and it didn’t seem to matter whether you did or not, because he was taking dedicated strides towards the ballroom floor. Your heart continued to flutter anxiously as you reached the edge of the dancefloor, where couples were waltzing elegantly across the polished marble, music swelling from all around, thought you were unable to pinpoint its origin. You felt a large, warm hand settle onto your hip, and you remembered you were supposed to be answering a question.

“I’m not very good,” you admitted, placing your hand on his broad shoulder as he took your other hand in his own. There was a reason you and Severus had been lounging instead of dancing. But just as you suspected, your answer didn’t really matter, as you were suddenly pulled into the throng of waltzing people as soon as the next song began. Lucius was a demanding lead, and you did your best to keep up with him, but after a few measures, you found yourself getting a hang of it. Enough so that you could stop looking down at your feet, and instead look up into piercing blue eyes, gazing down at you from behind an angry devil’s mask.

“I’d say you’re a natural,” he assured you with a wink, and you felt something inside of you melt a little. He’d been so damn smug the last time you’d met, making you feel small and stupid about all of the things you didn’t know. Things he’d told you that you ought to know. And you wondered if he was going to bring those things up again. But for now, he seemed content to whirl you around the ballroom, the music dramatic and heavy to match the feel of the room.

“I wanted to commend you,” he announced finally, and you perked up slightly at that. What on earth could Lucius Malfoy possibly have to commend you for? “I’ve known Severus since… well. Since before you were born, probably,” he admitted reluctantly, clearly loath to disclose his age, but it was apparently crucial to making his point. “And in all of our many years of friendship, he has never, _ever_ once accepted an invitation to _any_ of my parties.”

Your eyebrows shot up your forehead behind your mask, your mouth falling open in surprise. Severus had sounded like he knew the sorts of things that went on at these little gatherings, seemed to know what to expect upon receiving the invitation, and wanting to immediately decline it. You had a hard time believing that he’d _never_ gone to a party hosted by, whom you assumed was, his best friend. But Lucius could clearly see the skepticism in your eyes, and he nodded sternly.

“Oh believe me, Gwendolyn. I’ve been trying to get that boy out of his shell since he was eleven years old.” The song had changed, something a little faster tempo, and you struggled to keep up with Lucius as he twirled you around the floor. “He’s always been painfully introverted. He is very selective of the people he allows in to his inner circle, and has no desire to branch out.” Lucius looked quite serious as he gazed down at you, and even from behind the grim mask, you could feel the weight of his words. “I don’t know what sort of spell you’ve cast on him, but you’ve managed to do in less than a year, what I couldn’t do in twenty three.”

Your feet skittered suddenly as you stumbled over your dress, and Lucius was graceful enough to lead you both off of the dancefloor. Walking you towards one of the few windows that wasn’t covered by dark curtains, he instructed you to sit on the low bench ledge while he went to retrieve drinks, and you obeyed dutifully, taking the moment to catch your breath as you watched the Devil make his way across the room. You were… caught off guard by his whole proclamation. Not that it was anything you didn’t already know; you knew Severus was a private man. He wasn’t a fan of big crowds, of socializing unnecessarily, and you understood that. Respected it, even. You never would have _forced_ him to attend this party, if he really hadn’t wanted to. But it still came as a shock, to hear from who you believed to be Severus’ oldest, closest friend, that you had made such a huge impact on him in such a short amount of time.

Lucius returned, his mask dangling by its ribbons from his wrist as he handed you another glass of champagne. Taking the glass from him, you also took his cue to remove your mask as well, setting the delicate fusion of flowers and lace down on the stone ledge. Lucius sat beside you, turning to face you properly as he held his glass out to you. You clinked them together and took a sip, but Lucius merely watched you carefully. Gone was his smug grin, replaced instead by stoic thoughtfulness. 

“Severus means a great deal to me,” he said finally, his voice unexpectedly thick, and you felt an overwhelming swell of affection at the statement. Because you knew the feeling. Severus meant a great deal to you, too. “I know that’s a very ‘dad’ thing to say,” he laughed, relieving some of the tension in his voice, and you smiled kindly as you reached a hand across the stone bench towards his. He hesitated a moment, but took your offer, wrapping his warm fingers around yours. “But I have only ever wanted the best for him.” He squeezed your fingers, and you returned the pressure in silent encouragement for him to continue. 

“I want to apologize, for how I spoke to you the last time we met. Perhaps I was… a bit too critical of you back then. Your lineage, your blood status. It shouldn’t matter. _Doesn’t_ matter. Especially since you’ve had this sort of effect on him…” Lucius trailed off, arching a fine blonde brow at you, as your mouth had suddenly fallen open like a dead fish. “Gwendolyn?”

You gaped up at him, swallowing back your disbelief, trying to form words. “Are you saying…” you stammered, your face growing scarlet as you attempted to wrap your head around the words he’d just uttered. “Are you telling me… that he’s had feelings for me, since the Society Meeting?”

There was a pause. It almost felt like there was a dip in the music and the chatter at that moment. But after a beat, it was Lucius’ turn to go red, pulling his hand from yours to pinch the bridge of his nose with a groan. You burst into anxious giggles at the sight of this aristocrat facepalming, but your shock and awe was still paramount. 

“Guess I’ve let _that_ cat out of the bag,” Lucius bemoaned, dragging his hand down his face with a heavy sigh. “To be fair, he didn’t say it in quite so many words,” he assured you with a short laugh, an attempt to lighten the tension. “_He_ may not have even known he’d had feelings for you, but frankly it was obvious to… you know… anyone who has _eyes_.” You giggled again, burying your face in both of your hands, and you felt his strong arm wrap around your shoulders, his thumb brushing soothingly over your arm. “Narcissa and I figured it out pretty quickly, perhaps despite his best efforts. We…” he sighed, his mirth draining away. “We thought if Severus was in any way serious about you, we ought to get the details, of your blood status, your family. Those sorts of things are important in the wizarding world, after all.” 

You lifted your face from your hands, arching a skeptical eyebrow his direction, and he relented with a sigh. “However I’ve finally come to the conclusion that that doesn’t really matter. Because it’s _also_ obvious to anyone with eyes that he’s wild about you.” 

You smiled pacifyingly, sitting up straight again as you gazed out into the crowd, trying to catch any sight of him. You were quite ready to get back to him at this point, ready to take him back home, back to Hogwarts, and rip that stupid mask off of his face so you could give him a _proper_ kiss. But Lucius had caught your chin between his thumb and forefinger, and turned your face to his. You felt a spike of panic at the gesture, but Lucius’ voice was calm and soothing as he spoke. “And it’s also clear that you’re wild about _him_.” 

Your cheeks blossomed red as he placed his lips tenderly against your forehead, and you leaned into his touch. “Take care of him for me, won’t you?” Lucius asked, his voice growing thick once more. And you felt that swell of affection for him again. You also had eyes, and it was clear to you that Lucius was also wild about Severus, in his own way. It was comforting, to know that you weren’t the only one who cared so deeply about him. To know that Severus had more people on his side, people with his wellbeing in mind, besides just yourself. You leaned further into Lucius then, wrapping your arms around his waist, as you settled your cheek against his shoulder. After a moment’s hesitation, he returned your embrace, and it seemed you had come to an understanding.

“I will,” you promised, knowing it would be the easiest promise you would ever have to keep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Art by BlooeyedTroll!](https://BlooeyedTroll.tumblr.com/post/188314426224/snoodetober-2019)
> 
> [Art by thepomegranatejuice!](https://thepomegranatejuice.tumblr.com/post/188259215798/the-mask-and-whats-beneath-it-dal%C3%ADesque-spinning)   



	11. Caught

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: ;3c
> 
> Length: 1448
> 
> Rating: Hard M
> 
> Warnings: Nothing EXPLICIT, but damn, a lot is implied 9w9

Patrolling the halls was a menial chore, and perhaps the only thing you loathed about being a teacher. You would much rather be sleeping, or painting, or _something_. Anything was better than walking empty, silent halls in the middle of the night by yourself. And though you hadn’t been teaching at Hogwarts for very long, you had only ever caught a student out of bed maybe… twice? Three times if you counted the poor Hufflepuff first year who had forgotten the password to her common room. The point was, kids were gonna be kids, and most of them seemed perfectly content to get up to mischief in the comfort of their own dormitory. So naturally, you had no intention of taking _these_ rounds seriously. How dare McGonagall give you midnight rounds on a Saturday anyway! You definitely had something else you would much rather be doing tonight, and that something was named Severus Snape. 

But Severus, ever the gentleman, had offered to walk the rounds with you, an offer that you had immediately accepted, of course. Walking rounds was tedious, but with Severus accompanying you, it was _practically_ a date. The patrol had started off pleasantly enough, with quiet conversation interspersed between checking rooms and exploring dead end corridors. But as the evening dragged on, you felt yourself become increasingly restless. You had other plans for this night, and you had lasted a whole thirty minutes before giving in to your urges. The dungeons were just so _silent_, and if you hadn’t come across a sneaky student by now, you suspected you weren’t going to. 

And that was all the permission you needed to grab your man by the hips as you rounded the next corner, backing him against the nearest wall and sliding your thigh between his legs as you crushed your mouth against his. You’d been waiting to do this _all day_, goddamn it, but there were still jobs to do and appearances to maintain while the sun was up. So you’d been good. You’d attended a staff meeting and had kept your hands to yourself the entire time. And how had you been rewarded? By the Deputy Headmistress assigning you midnight rounds. You’d been wound up like a spring for hours, and now that the sun had finally set, you were ready to snap. 

Severus, for his part, actually seemed _surprised _by your sudden carnal instigation. But then again, he _usually_ seemed a little surprised when you were so eager like this. Like he couldn’t believe anyone would ever be eager about getting into his pants. But god, you’d been dreaming of doing just that all day, and you had no intention of waiting any longer as you palmed the front of his trousers.

“Jesus, Gwen,” he groaned against your lips, and you opened your mouth to swallow the sound. But just as quickly as you had assailed him, he snatched up your wrists, holding them aloft as he glared down at you critically. His face was flushed, and his breath was short, but you had a bad feeling you weren’t going to like whatever he had to say next. “We can’t do this,” he stated, ever the voice of reason, and you pouted severely enough for him to roll his eyes at you. “Not _here_, anyway.” 

_That’s_ what you liked to hear. You were pleased that he had given in so easily this time, and you lewdly rolled your hips against his thigh, his grip on your wrists tightening. “Your rooms?” you suggested breathlessly, as it seemed the most obvious choice. But Severus looked reluctant as he gazed down the hall. The potions classroom wasn’t exactly _close_, and there were so many wards between the door and his office and his quarters… “Right, okay forget the rooms,” you murmured, swiveling your head around to try and find an empty classroom… when suddenly you _remembered_. Severus could see the bright idea gleaming in your eyes, and he released your wrists easily so you could lead the way. 

You felt like a teenager again as you dragged your boyfriend along by the hand, searching the dungeon corridors for that one specific dark wooden door; the one with the polished silver latch that stood out from the rest of the old tarnished ones. You knew the room all too well, having spent quite a few Saturday nights within its magically soundproofed walls as a student... accompanied by either Lawrence Hollingsworth, Orion Amari, Bill Weasley or Kirley McCormack. Or Erika Rath, that one time…

To be fair, you hadn’t gone looking for the room with the intention of using it _since _you were a teenager, as needing a private place to make out was considerably less of an issue now that you were an adult (_usually_). As far as you knew, most of the staff knew about the room, because you’d been caught fooling around in it before, along with multitudes of other horny students just looking for some privacy. But despite all efforts to seal it, the burnished silver handle would inevitably appear on a different door somewhere else within the dungeons. It had been a primo snogging locale in your youth, and as far as you knew, still existed somewhere within the dungeons, though you weren’t sure if it was quite as popular these days.

Ah… you supposed it was because of students _exactly like you_, that you had to walk rounds in the first place. C’est la vie.

You saw the gleaming silver latch, and picked up your speed with a giddy little skip, Severus trailing along behind you. Stopping before the room, he glanced at the pristine silver handle before giving you a shrewd look, and you smiled sheepishly as you leaned your back up against the door. “What?” you asked coyly, still holding his hand, rubbing your thumb back and forth against his cool skin.

“The fact that you know exactly what this room is, what it does, and what it’s used for, is alarming,” he chided, but you didn’t even feel the least bit guilty as he pressed his hips against yours, pinning you to the door with his weight. You caught your bottom lip between your teeth, disentangled your hands and crawling your fingers over his stomach, up his chest. Oh yeah, you definitely felt like a teenager again.

“Where do you think I learned to kiss so well?” you offered cheekily, arching a challenging brow of your own as you wrapped your arms around his neck. Your fingers played with the ends of his hair as you pulled him down to you, and he surrendered easily, pressing his lips against yours eagerly to test your bold claim. He must have been just as pent up as you were; you could literally feel his tension pressed firmly against your hip, and it made you tremble with anticipation. He snaked on hand around your waist, holding you close to him as he reached across to pull on the silver latch. The door swung open behind you, and you were ready to tumble back into the dim, welcoming room, when you both heard a sudden squeal from within.

You jumped, feeling your heart plummet into your guts as you quickly disengaged from your lover, fearing you actually _had_ managed to catch a couple of honey teenagers while walking your rounds. But one look to Severus’ suddenly ashen face made you truly fear what you had just walked in on. You peered over your shoulder, following the motion and turning around completely… to find Madam Hooch and Professor McGonagall sprawled across one of the fine silken sofas that lined the room. Minerva looked flushed, her hair, usually pulled back into a severe bun, was loose and wild around her flaming face. And while Rolanda’s hair _always_ looked wild, it looked especially disheveled with Minerva’s fingers buried in it. Their robes were rumpled, Rolanda’s hiked practically up to her hips, though you were spared the sight of anything that was meant for Minerva’s eyes only. 

In the lull of silence that followed your sudden intrusion, you heard Severus turn on his heel, followed by his rapid footsteps retreating in the _opposite_ direction, a trail of curses left in his wake. You couldn’t blame him. You didn’t feel quite so enthused anymore either. You giggled nervously as you reached for the silver door handle, slowly pulling it closed again as the two women started to disentangle from each other. “At least you know I really was walking rounds tonight!” you called out, shutting the door just as you heard an indignant expletive thrown your direction, and you bolted down the hall to catch up with Severus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Art by BlooeyedTroll!](https://BlooeyedTroll.tumblr.com/post/188330381209/snoodetober-2019)
> 
> [Art by thepomegranatejuice!](https://thepomegranatejuice.tumblr.com/post/188265395538/caught)   



	12. Glow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: Callbacks to chapter 3 of dream sequence.
> 
> So, this one got away from me a little bit. It’s a little more somber than some of the past Snoode’s. But there’s gotta be a balance between goofy romance, and real shit uwu
> 
> Length: 2620
> 
> Rating: T
> 
> Warnings: ANGST THE HOUSE. Depression, anxiety, call back to Gwen’s past traumas that took place in Dream Sequence. Also spoilers for a scene that hasn’t happened in Dream Sequence yet.

You couldn’t sleep.

This… was sort of a rare occurrence for you. Most nights you fell asleep easily, warm and sated in your lovers arms, sometimes after making love, most times after a quiet evening of just sharing a bed, of reading together, or talking. Always, you would nuzzle yourself against his chest, tucked up under his chin as he lazily dragged his fingers back and forth over your arms, down your spine, across your hip. His touches were the ultimate soother, and you’d become accustomed to falling asleep to his gentle ministrations. Eventually you’d break apart from each other; you would get too hot to stay bundled up under the blankets, and Severus would subsequently become too cold, taking over the sheets you’d abandoned and cocooning himself on his side of the bed. But tonight was different, for no reason other than the fact that you couldn’t get your brain to _shut up_.

This still happened, sometimes. A remnant of your depressed state, after the fallout in Albania. Despite how much better your life had become, how much happier you were, perhaps even the happiest you’d ever been in your life… That didn’t just make it go away. It never really _would_ go away, you knew. It would sneak up on you, pounce on you like a slinky, oily animal, and cling to your back while it whispered your traumas in your ear. Flashbacks didn’t stop being visceral, intrusive thoughts, just because you’d learned how to cope with them.

And it wasn’t just flashbacks any more, either. Wasn’t just your past traumas or betrayals. There were new anxieties at play now. Ones you did your damnedest not to entertain, because you knew it was the last thing Severus would want. But sometimes, they were exceedingly hard to ignore. They appeared suddenly, jarringly, pulling you out of your serenity to remind you that your life was far from perfect, and your future was uncertain. They were stark and vivid, like black ink smattered against white paper. Or, perhaps more appropriately, like a dark tattoo marring pale skin.

Severus was usually the one who had trouble sleeping. He assured you that his sleeping habits had improved significantly since gaining a steady bedpartner. But when he wasn’t suffering from occasional bouts of insomnia, he was plagued by nightmares, ones that had scared you half to death with his terrorized vocalizations and violent thrashing. Those had become less frequent, the more nights you spent in his bed. You were starting to wonder why you even had your own quarters at this point… But that wasn’t what was really on your mind, now.

You’d been tossing and turning for what felt like literal hours. You were hot, exhausted, and angry at yourself, for the looping, circular thoughts you couldn’t get out of your head. You thought about taking a dreamless sleep potion, but you’d waited too long, if you wanted to have any hope of waking up at a reasonable time in the morning. You should have taken it as soon as you’d realized you were too restless for sleep. But alas. You were an idiot. You also thought about just going back to your own quarters. Maybe try drawing, or reading, or something. But you didn’t want to leave him in the middle of the night, either. Didn’t want him to wake up to an empty bed. Didn’t want to frighten him, if you were suddenly gone from his side. And he was sleeping so soundly, for once. 

So you’d crawled out of bed sometime around three in the morning, padding across the room to the large alcove window and settling onto the low stone bench before it (_which you’d ever so smartly outfitted with plush green cushions some time ago_). The glass felt cool against your feverish skin as you leaned against it, pulling your legs up to your chest as you peered out across the bottom of the Black Lake. You were incredibly fond of this underwater view… during the day time. You weren’t sure you’d ever gone water gazing this late at night, and for the first time this evening, your mind was finally distracted from its disquiet.

It was… dark. Eerily dark, you thought, as you really couldn’t see anything past the glass of the window. Your night vision was attuned only to the scant amount of moonlight that managed to filter through the surface of the murky depths. While the Black Lake was usually teaming with schools of silvery fish, dopey kappas and vicious grindylows, you couldn’t see _anything_ beyond gently swaying plant life that was right up close to the window. And it was both unnerving and exhilarating, peering out into the fathomless darkness. Your heart was pounding at the possibility of seeing the dark shadow of the giant squid drift past, or the darting forms of merpeople hunting in the night. It would honestly be terrifying, which was sort of _exciting_…

And then you _did_ see something.

Lights. Pale yellow lights glowing in the distance, undulating rhythmically as they grew brighter. Wait, not brighter… _Closer_, you realized. Your heart was pounding in your throat as you sat up on your knees, pressing your face to the glass as you watched the long string of lights slither their way towards the window. You were half way between wanting to close your eyes, stumble back into bed, cover your head with the pillow, and being absolutely rooted to the spot, watching with breathless terror as you caught the first glimpse of the sinewy creature the lights were emitting from. 

“Gwen?”

You jumped, nearly _screamed_ as you heard your name grumbled tiredly from across the room. You pulled your eyes from the glowing orbs just for a moment to peer over your shoulder, seeing a disgruntled, pale face framed by black hair peeking up from under a comically large pile of blankets. You laughed, despite yourself, a breathless little giggle, before you remembered. 

“Sev, babe, come here,” you whispered eagerly, turning your gaze back around to the window. The creature was meandering ever closer, and you could see its _teeth_, you realized. Even from a distance, you could make out the open mouthed V-shape of a gaping maw full of faintly blue, glowing, needle-like teeth.

“You never call me ‘Sev’,” you heard him mumble groggily, followed by the rustling of sheets and the faint thud of feet coming into contact with the freezing stone floor. 

You blushed a little, hearing him shuffle across the room towards you. He was right. You weren’t sure if you’d _ever_ called him ‘Sev’ before. You weren’t even sure if he liked it. “Time is of the essence, and your name has too many syllables,” you countered, leaning close to the glass as you felt him approach you from behind.

“Our names have the same number of… you know what, never mind.” You felt a large, warm hand settle onto the small of your back, felt him prop his chin up on you shoulder. “What are we looking at?” he asked and you reached around to take his hand from your back, pulling him down onto the bench beside you. You slipped an arm around his waist, tugging him closer to you, and pointed out into the dark water beyond the window.

“_That_,” you whispered, just as the long, ropey body of a massive, glowing creature glided through the darkness, the fin along its back rippling steadily, the spots dotting its lateral line glowing ghostly yellow through the black water.

It seemed to take Severus a moment for his eyes to adjust, but when they finally did, he sucked in a surprised breath through his nose. “That’s a Glower Eel,” he murmured, and you felt a thrill of excitement at having your suspicions confirmed. You’d only ever seen one in your life. A dead one, housed in a massive jar behind his desk in his office. But the one floating ethereally past the window looked to be _twice_ as long, and was glowing twice as bright. It was a magnificently terrifying animal, its mouth full of electric blue teeth in contrast to the spectral yellow bioluminescence that dotted its length. Severus shifted beside you to get a closer look, and you finally managed to pull your eyes away from the creature as it turned, looking to your lover instead.

He was so beautiful. 

It was all you could think of, gazing at him like this, the faint light of the moon and glow of the eel reflecting against his pale skin. Shadows settled into the hollows of his cheeks, the depths of his eyes… and you were just so afraid. Afraid of losing him. Afraid that all of this was going to come crashing down around you, and you would be left alone again. You know what they say, about things that are too good to be true…

“Gwendolyn?”

Your eyes slid shut as he called your name, and you leaned forward, pressing your face against his shoulder, wrapping your hand around his left forearm. “I couldn’t sleep,” you whispered, your voice on the verge of breaking as all of your ringing thoughts came crashing back onto you. Severus shifted again, your face against his chest now as he gently slid his arm from your grasp, wrapping both of his arms around your shoulders instead. “I could stop… thinking…” you confessed, settling your hands around his waist, clutching tightly at his grey nightshirt. 

“About what?” he asked soothingly, petting his hand over your hair. This wasn’t the first time you’d been caught indulging in your occasional sorrow. He knew most of the things that would plague you, from time to time. He had been there for you through the vast majority of them, after all. You thought you were beyond not wanting to talk about things; you’d known from the very beginning of your relationship that keeping quiet, keeping secrets, was not going to work. You always did your best to communicate with him, to encourage him to do the same, despite his initial reluctance. 

But you couldn’t find your voice, right now. You were so tired, so angry, so fearful and upset, that you just knew you would dissolve if you tried to express what was burdening you. And the worst part was that there was no reason for the burden. Nothing bad had happened recently. Nothing had triggered this melancholy spell. It had simply arrived in the night like an unwanted visitor, and you hadn’t been able to shake it. 

“Do you want to show me?” he asked softly against your ear, sensing your reluctance. And you were confused for a moment, before he took hold of your cheek, tilting your head back to down into your brimming eyes. The Glower Eel was still swimming lazy laps, back and forth beyond the window, and the shifting glow glinted off of his black eyes, though in this strange light, you could see their true deep brown. You could just… show him. You could still communicate, without having to articulate. So you nodded, ever grateful for the gift that was magic.

He went slowly, but your breath still caught in your chest as you felt him penetrate your mind. It was different, willingly allowing him access, unlike like some of the times he would sneak a peek without you knowing. It didn’t feel like scuttly beetles digging through compacted earth. It was more fluid, like… well. Like an eel through dark water. You didn’t mind the times he would peer in for a quick glance. It was part of how you communicated, and this was no different. This just felt more… _intimate_. Your grip on his nightshirt tightened as you let go of your focus, allowing your mind to go wherever it wanted to go, to allow your feelings to float to the surface for him to view.

_Helplessness (Gilderoy Lockhart). _

_Betrayal (Damocles Belby). _

_Envy (Lucius Malfoy). _

_Guilt (Lily Evans). _

_Fear (Tom Riddle)._

There were tears streaming down your cheeks as he finally pulled out, and you collapsed into him with heaving breaths as he held you tightly. You could hear his heart pounding against yours, and you squeezed your eyes shut. You heard him draw breath, knowing he had something to say, knowing exactly what he _would_ say, so you cut him off quickly, fingers digging into his back. “I know we’ve talked about this,” you gasped, feeling your tears soak into his nightshirt. “I know I shouldn’t let any of that consume me. I know a lot of it is in the past, and some of them are bridges we have yet to cross.” You were quoting him directly, you realized, thinking back to the night he gave you his ultimatums, when he finally gave you a chance, to allow you into his life. “But sometimes I can’t _help_ it, Severus! There’s so much at stake and I’m just so afraid of losing… losing…”

His hold tightened around you, and you were too tired to even cry properly. You trembled in his arms for what felt like ages, just trying to breathe, trying to calm yourself. “That’s part of the risk we’re taking,” he whispered, and you wondered if his voice was on the verge of breaking as well. “All of this is a risk, knowing it could end… could be taken away from us, at any moment.” Oh, this wasn’t what you wanted to hear… this wasn’t making you feel-

“But it has been so incredibly worth it,” he assured you, and you didn’t resist as he pushed you to sit up properly. “I don’t blame you, for having these thoughts. These fears. I have them too. I know how overwhelming they can be.” He used his sleeve to wipe your cheeks, and you pouted desolately up at him, which for some reason made him quirk a small smile. “But I love you. Very much. And while I can’t promise you that everything will be alright, know that I am going to fight to keep this.” He pressed a soothing kiss to your forehead, and you closed your eyes with a sigh. 

Just hearing him say that he loved you, knowing how precious those words were when he said them, was already causing your tension to ease. You still felt miserable, but it was more of a physical ache now. You were exhausted and sore, the physical manifestations of how badly you felt inside as well. You just wanted to crawl back into bed with him now, and wanted to wake up in the morning to bright sunlight and a new day. 

“I love you too,” you avowed, returning into his embrace, and he accepted you readily, warm arms enfolding you. Turning your head toward the window, you saw that the Glower Eel had moved on, its shimmering length but a pale yellow spot in the distance. That… had been pretty cool, you thought to yourself, finally managing a small smile of your own. You could twist the situation, think that it was a good thing you hadn’t been able to sleep, or else you would have missed the rare special. Yeah… that sounded good. You would take the silver lining. 

“Can we go back to bed now?” you asked, words sounding childish in your own ears. But he hummed affirmatively, sliding from the bench and taking both of your hands to pull you up with him. You pressed yourself right back against him once you were vertical, and he chuckled quietly as he steered you towards the bed. You stayed wrapped in his arms this time as you slipped under the waves of exhaustion, unwilling to part from him, and the safety of his embrace.

Bonus (Under Blacklight):

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Art by BlooeyedTroll!](https://BlooeyedTroll.tumblr.com/post/188423869749/snoodetober-2019)   



	13. Freckles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: A continuation of “Glow”. Sev’s POV again 9w9
> 
> Length: 2057
> 
> Rating: HARD M
> 
> Warnings: Not Snape For Work. Nothing like, EXTRA spicy, but clothing is removed, mouths are put in places

Neither of you had gotten much sleep last night. Gwendolyn had finally managed to fall asleep after you cajoled her into bed, holding her in your arms and as you ran your fingers across her bare skin in soothing patterns. But, predictably, you had not been able to follow along with her. It was as though her anxiety had simply transferred over to you, leaving you to bear the burden of all of her fears. Fears that were _your_ fault. There was nothing that you despised more than seeing her suffer, simply for the fact that she was involved with _you_. 

She, of course, would have told you the same thing that you had told her. That this was the choice you both had made. These were the risks you both were taking, for the chance of having a life together. God, you could hardly even fathom the phrase. _A life together_. Less than a year ago your life had meant nothing. You simply existed to play a role, to serve a cause, to protect a child, whose parent’s death had been your fault. You often remembered the words you’d spoken to Dumbledore, so many years ago. That you wished you were dead. Your mentor had countered that, of course. What good would your death be to anyone? And so you’d taken up your cross, bore it through the years, anything you could do to atone for the lives you could not save. You lived to repent. It had been your sole purpose for years.

But now… _a life together_.

A life that could be ripped away at any time by the whims of a madman, of which there were two you had to contend with. So you really could sympathize with her worries. But what good would worrying do? What could you possibly do to change anything? Those were bridges yet to be crossed, and the constant repetition of “What if” would never serve to prepare either of you for what was actually to come.

So for now… you would take what you could get, right?

Gwendolyn had managed a little sleep before the day began, but you had drained your own reserves by staying up until sunrise. You’d both skipped breakfast (not unusual), and you had forgone your morning shower in favor of staying in bed, giving Gwendolyn a few more minutes of sleep, bundled up as she was in your arms. You’d waited until the absolute last minute to wake her, giving you both only thirty minutes to dress for the day. She’s given you a sleepy kiss, and a quiet thank you, before she’d flooed off to her own quarters, and you resigned yourself to not getting to see her again until the sun down. 

But that had given you a plenty of time to think, and to make plans for the evening.

You weren’t particularly well versed in romantic endeavors. It was usually Gwendolyn who did the planning, constantly coming up with ideas for dates, for outings, for the bedroom. You were happy to let her take the reins; she was youthful and inspired, while you were old and jaded. It was easier to just indulge her whims, and for the most part, you would almost always end up enjoying yourself, sometimes despite your best efforts. 

But tonight you felt… well, guilty, for starters. For being the source of her disquiet. You knew there was nothing either of you could do, to change your ultimate circumstances. It was a wait and see situation, but you could at least try to make her feel better about it. To remind her that you still had each other in this moment, and to not let possible ‘what ifs’ distract you from being present together now. And also to make it up to her, for a shitty night’s sleep and a full day spent feeling like a zombie. 

It was still quite early in the evening when she’d finally knocked on the door to your quarters. You had skipped dinner in order to make your preparations, and you were anticipating her complaint about it as soon as you let her in. So you’d taken a pre-emptive measure, by kissing her the moment you opened the door. And it did its job, your passionate gesture catching her entirely off guard, but she sure didn’t seem too beat up about it as she leaned into you, wrapping her arms around your neck and sighing into your mouth.

“What was that for?” she asked breathlessly as she finally pulled back, gazing up at you with mixture of confusion and delight. You replied simply by placing another kiss to the corner of her mouth, and tossing the door shut behind the both of you. She was still a little bemused as you lead her into the room, but was compliant as you sat her down on the bench under the window. The water behind her was dark, and your room was illuminated by a crackling fire, and nothing else. The shimmering flames made light dance across her sun kissed skin, and you had every intention of kissing every inch of it yourself. You slid to the floor, on your knees between her legs, and leaned up to capture her mouth as you slid her teaching robes off of her shoulders.

She made a soft noise in the back of her throat, and you surged forward to swallow it as your fingers danced down the buttons of her blouse. You were rather an authority on vast quantities of finicky little buttons, and you made quick work of them, pulling the hem of the shirt out of the waistband of her skirt, before sliding the whole raiment off of her shoulders and down her arms. She shivered beneath you as you dragged your hands over her bare skin, and you finally ended the kiss, now that there was a little more real estate to get your mouth on.

She gasped as you drew your lips across her jaw, down her neck, leaving feather light kisses against her speckled skin. She looked absolutely stunning like this, her face flushed and dazed, her freckled skin looking bronzed in the dancing firelight. How fucking lucky were you, to be allowed to have this view all to yourself? You trailed your mouth along her collarbone, where the multitudes of freckles began to thin out, exposing creamy, pale skin where the sun rarely hit. You reached around behind her back, deftly unhooking the latch of her bra (_you were getting quite good at it_), and she whimpered as she was exposed to the chilled dungeon air. You remedied that easily, cupping one small breast in your hand, while moving your mouth over to the other, catching her nipple between your lips and sucking gently.

Her whimper turned into a breathy moan as she dug her fingers into your hair. You winced, lamenting that fact that you didn’t get to wash this morning, but she didn’t seem to care, which… made you feel some sort of way. But you would explore that later. Your free hand snaked around behind her, palming her round bottom before searching for the zipper on the back of her skirt. She squirmed in her seat, and you grinned against her breast, dragging the zip down slowly, before sliding your hand inside, slipping past the waistband of her panties to give her backside a firm squeeze.

“Severus!” she squealed, dissolving into laughter as she bent over you, and you finally released her nipple from your mouth in order to gaze up at her. She was still giggling as she stared down at you, shifting her hands from your hair to your face, cupping your jaw as she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. “What is all this about?” she asked again, looking playfully suspicious as you hooked your fingers over both waistbands, pulling on them expectantly. She rolled her eyes cheekily, before lifting her hips from the bench. You made quick work of divesting her of both skirt and panties, and she let go of your face in order to lean back against the window, lifting her knees up so you could drag off the last of her clothing. 

She stayed propped up against the window, and you took advantage of her reclined state, continuing your exploration downward and placing kisses against her soft stomach. Your hands roved over her dappled thighs, and you followed along with your lips, worshiping every inch of freckled skin you could get your mouth on. She whined a little as you teasingly blew warm breath over her dark blonde curls, but your plans didn’t involve an exploration there. This wasn’t _really_ about sex. And you were trying to convey that with every tender touch. You kissed the inside of her knee as you sat back on the stone floor, before taking her calf in your hand, and using the other to unlace her boot. Soon he pair had tumbled to the floor, and you carefully rolled down her knee-high socks, following their trail with your lips, before placing a final kiss on her delicate ankle. 

“How was your day, honeybee?” you finally asked her, running your hands up over her legs, her knees, her thighs, settling against her hips as you peered up at her. You tried not to look too smug at her soft panting, the rise and fall of her chest, the deep flush on her face and neck. She appeared totally bewildered, but finally managed a vexed smile, reaching her own hands down to lace her fingers between yours.

“Long,” she answered honestly, rubbing her thumbs against the side of your hand. “Draining. I would say I was exhausted, if you hadn’t just riled me up like a beehive,” she teased, dragging her leg up your flank, teasing you with her touch. “Are you going to tell me what you’ve got planned, _cunning_ Slytherin?” She arched a brow (_she was getting quite good at it_), and you snorted at her not-so-subtle innuendo.

“I just wanted to take care of you,” you replied, placing a kiss against her hip bone. “I wanted to make up for the night you had last night…” You sighed through your nose, pillowing your cheek against her soft thigh as you gazed up at her. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. But I’ve run a bath. Candles and everything. I just thought you might like to… relax…” You lifted your head when you saw her face crumple, and you quickly wrapped your arms around her waist, pulling her down off of the bench to sit in your lap as she buried her face into your neck. 

Merlin, you didn’t want her to _cry_. That was sort of the _opposite_ of what you were going for. She already did so much of it… but… you knew she was a sensitive creature. She wore her heart on her sleeve and didn’t shy away from her own emotions. It was actually something you admired in her, because you had been doing the exact opposite for so long.

“Thank you,” she squeaked, sitting up to wipe at her eyes. You peered up at her sympathetically, and she laughed through her sniffles, shaking her head as she tried to get over her sudden burst of emotions. “Let me… let me return the favor?”

You frowned. There was no favor to return. And that wasn’t really the point either. You… you weren’t doing this in hopes of getting anything out of it, other than maybe a little redemption. Your goal had simply been to comfort her, ease her worries, and remind her that you were _still here_. But she looked so expectant, so eager, and what else could you do, but nod your consent? She placed her hands against your cheeks, pressed her lips against yours, before pushing herself up to her feet and holding her hands out for yours. You took them, making sure to stand up on your own accord, as opposed to letting her pull you up, and she took hold of your hips then, backing you up until your backside hit the bed. She gazed up at you affectionately, her lip caught between her teeth once again, as she reached up for the top button of your coat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Art by BlooeyedTroll!](https://BlooeyedTroll.tumblr.com/post/188425620079/snoodetober-2019)   



	14. Buttons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: A continuation of “Freckles”. Back to Gwen's POV
> 
> Length: 1964
> 
> Rating: HARRRRD M
> 
> Warnings: Not Snape for Work! About the same as last time. Removal of clothing. Mouths in places. Nothing too detailed but MMM SPICY

This really hadn’t been how you’d expected your evening to go. 

The day had been grueling, classes dragging on for hours and you attention span dwindling rapidly. Though you did have the luxury of being the muggle studies teacher, after all, which mean that you had the liberty to wheeling out a television and VHS player and popping in ‘Labyrinth’, requesting that your forth year students take notes about the Muggle World’s poor understanding and misguided opinions of Goblins, to be discussed next class. You weren’t sure if any of them had actually done it, given that you’d stolen away into your office to take a bloody nap, but you hadn’t heard any commotion, and no one had come to tattle on any of their classmates after the period ended, so you assumed that all had gone well.

After your final lecture, you’d been looking forward to going to dinner, to finally getting some food in your belly, and whining to Severus about how awful everything was after only four hours of sleep. But Severus hadn’t _been_ at dinner, and _that_ had worried you deeply. After a whole night of fretting over him, about losing everything you had, your mind had gone wild with speculation. You considered just ditching the staff table, marching right down to the dungeons to see for yourself, but Professor Sprout had intercepted you, insisting on catching up, or something, you could barely remember since you’d barely paid attention. But all the same you had been detained and consigned yourself to at least trying to eat something until you were freed from the prison of social constructs. 

When you finally had escaped, you felt a little calmer. You were over reacting. Maybe Severus was taking a nap, just as you had done. Maybe he was taking a shower, since you knew he’d skimped out on it this morning, for your sake. Something you deeply appreciated, but also felt sort of guilty about. No matter what reason he had for skipping dinner, you were looking forward to a quiet evening curled up in his bed. You didn’t care what else you did. He could read a potions journal out loud to you for all you cared. All you wanted to do what rest, and be close to him.

What you _hadn’t_ been expecting, was for him to assail your mouth the very second you walked through the door. Not that you were complaining or anything. It was a welcome albeit confusing surprise. Severus was rarely the one to instigate this sort of thing. You were usually the one mewling and pawing at him for attention, and he was typically _very_ willing to indulge your desires. But tonight, _he_ had taken over the role of initiator, and frankly you were more than happy to lay back and let him do it. He had unwrapped you like a present on Christmas morning, and you were all too eager to return the favor.

Severus did indeed know a spell for dealing with the absurd amount of buttons he wore on the daily, and you had become _very_ adept at using it, sometimes even wandless and nonverbally. A symptom of your youthful eagerness, you supposed. Whether you were taking it slow, or in the heat of the moment, the fact was you were always impatient when it came to getting your hands on him, and greatly preferred to bypass the undressing stage in favor of getting to the main event.

You could see now, what a fool you had been. 

His hand were resting on your hips, keeping you braced against him as you undid the top few buttons of his frock coat. The black fabric buttons slipped easily through their eyelets, revealing the starched white collar and black cravat underneath. You would take care of those later. For now, you had a task to complete as you continued your way down his torso, button after button, careful and exact. The symbolism of this act was not lost on you as you undid the final button on the front of his coat, pushing it open and sliding your hands over his narrow waist, before pressing your lips against his heart through clean, white linen.

Even as a girl, you recognized armor when you saw it. He had been an enigma to you at the time; frustrating beyond belief, completely baffling in his actions, and yet, utterly fascinating to you, too. You had wondered what he was hiding, what secrets he was keeping as he shrouded himself in rumors, insults and theatrics. And buttons. So many goddamn buttons. Defense mechanisms he clearly still used today, now that you thought about it. But the difference was that he no longer used them around _you_. Here he was, allowing you to peel back the facade he’d spent a lifetime building. Because he felt bad that you didn’t sleep well last night.

God, he was cute.

Leaning back, you pulled your hands away from his flank, instead reaching for his hands which were still propped on your hips. Tugging at one wrist, you forced him to release his hold on you as you held his delicate hand in yours. You slid your thumb under the cuff of his sleeve, brushing it gently across the back of his hand. It was a gesture you preformed often, usually in public, when displays of affection were typically frowned upon, but it always felt just as intimate as a kiss. It was a reminder to you, that you were the one allowed under all of that armor. And it was a reminder to him, of your constant affection, and the trust that you shared. You used your other hand to start loosening the line of buttons that ran up his sleeve to his elbow, and as you finally lifted your gaze to meet his, he pitched forward to capture your lips.

You hummed serenely into the kiss, finding it _more_ than a little distracting, especially when you were attempting such a meticulous procedure one-handed. But soon enough, his frock coat was unbuttoned completely, and you pushed it off of his shoulders onto the bed, both of you still connected at the lips as you crawled your fingers up his chest for his cravat. His own hands were back on your hips, wandering a little lower as he cupped your bare backside, and your concentration was _really_ suffering now as you attempted to undo the tight knot at his throat. You finally had to pull back from the kiss with a giggle shaking your head as you wiggled your bottom against his hold. 

“You wanna get out of these clothes or not?” you teased, peering up at him with a wink before turning your attention his cravat, and he groaned. It was up to interpretation whether it was from exasperation or arousal. Knowing him… probably both. He pulled his hands back up to your waist again, rubbing his thumbs back and forth against your hip bones which really wasn’t _much_ better. But you had finally found which way the knot looped, and pulled the length of black silk free from his throat. It joined his coat on the bed, and you reached around behind him to start tugging his shirt out of the waistband of his trousers. 

You much preferred the large black buttons to these finicky little white ones, since they were much smaller and harder to release. But all the same, you took your time unfastening each one, and took a cue from your lover as you pressed your lips against each new inch of exposed skin. The hollow of his throat, the jutting angle of his collar bone, the smattering of dark hair across his narrow chest. His taut stomach rose and fell with each breath, and you hummed against it as you sank down to your knees. You felt the _whoosh_ of his magic, and were pleasantly surprised to find a soft cushion had materialized beneath you. Much more comfortable than the frigid dungeon floor you had been prepared for. He was always so considerate. 

“Thank you,” you purred, gazing back up at him as you undid the final button of his white dress shirt. He was already fiddling with the buttons of his cuffs, sparing you the chore of having to deal with those as he divested himself of the shirt, and giving _you_ the opportunity to indulge in one of your favorite things about him. Sighing contentedly, you nuzzled your face against the line of thick, dark curls that trailed down from his navel, disappearing into the waistband of his slacks, and you relished in his sudden gasp as his fingers plunged into your hair.

You bit back your giggle at his visceral reaction, and kissed softly along the trail as you smoothed your hands over his hips, down his thighs and to his shins. You had much less trouble blindly pulling at the laces of his shoes, but he didn’t wait for you to even finish the task, simply toeing them off and kicking them under the bed. He was very clearly preoccupied in making sure you kept your mouth on his abdomen, and you were happy to oblige. You crawled your fingers teasingly back up his legs, brushing his inner thighs with your thumbs.

Your lips finally trailed down past his waistline, and he groaned deep in his chest as you mouthed the hard bulge straining the four-button fly of his trousers. His grip in your hair tightened ever so slightly before releasing, and that was your signal to give it a rest. You’d had your fun. This was surely getting torturous, and he certainly hadn’t teased _you_ this badly. Still, you allowed yourself to kiss each individual button before unfastening the line and pushing his fly open.

His sigh of relief was palpable, and you sighed along with him, pressing a gentle kiss to the wet spot that had formed on his briefs as a result of his impressive arousal. His hips stuttered at the affection, but you didn’t give him much more than that. You didn’t want to think of it as _revenge_ for not giving _you_ any attention but…

“You said there was a bath waiting?” you quipped, finally pulling back to peer up at him, his hands falling from your hair so that he could steady himself against the mattress. The glare he shot you might have been alarming to anyone else, but you simply winked as you curled your fingers around the waistband of his trousers and pants. You stripped both articles from his legs, and managed to hook your fingers into his dress socks as he stepped out of the whole affair. Tossing everything aside, you reached your hands out for his expectantly, and he rolled his eyes as he complied. He was flushed from his hairline down to his chest, and you quite liked that particular shade of pink on his otherwise pale skin. You placed one final kiss against his jagged hipbone before hauling yourself up to your feet. You instantly wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pressing yourself against the length of his lean body and feeling the thrum of both his pulse and his magic against you.

“Lead the way,” you whispered against his lips, but your attempt at seduction was completely botched as he dipped forward, one arm wrapping around your shoulders and the other hooking under your knees. You squealed as he bodily lifted you from the ground and into his arms, something you didn’t even know he could _do_, and you burst into giggles as he carried you bridal style towards the bathroom. You supposed you deserved that, for all that you put him through, and you kissed his temple tenderly in supplication.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Art by BlooeyedTroll!](https://BlooeyedTroll.tumblr.com/post/188425816449/snoodetober-2019)   



	15. Selfcare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: A continuation of “Buttons”, and the last of this “series” uwu
> 
> Length: 2148
> 
> Rating: M
> 
> Warnings: They neked, but nothing spicy this time uvu

No one had ever done anything this romantic for you in your _life_.

Not that Severus _wasn’t_ romantic. He was considerably more sentimental than he let on, as you were slowly beginning to discover. But his gestures were usually… understated. Subtle. It was in the way he took care of you, how he handled you with such deference. It was in the way he wove his words, how he touched your body. God, sometimes his voice alone was enough to make you weak in the knees, and he would often use _that_ knowledge to his advantage.

But this was… truly _touching_.

When he’d mentioned that he’d drawn a bath ‘with candles and everything’, you honestly hadn’t been expecting much. The en suite connected to his bedroom was nothing to write home about. The little room was downright _dreary_, considering it was a bathroom in a _dungeon_. You hated when you had to bathe in there, because it felt like the water never truly got warm (_considering you preferred your showers to be scalding hot_). And the _tub_… Perhaps you were spoiled by the set up in your own quarters, but his bathtub didn’t even have all of the lovely little taps that dispensed massive bubbles and fragrant foams. It was purely utilitarian, a claw footed copper relic of the Victorian era. Which matched your man just fine, you guessed. You weren’t even sure if the bathtub had ever been used to, like, actually take a _bath_, seeing as you’d only ever known him to wash in the separate rib cage shower.

But it was certainly going to get used _tonight_. 

The room was dark as he carried you through the threshold, the space illuminated only by the flickering candles that floated about lazily. It was also warm and humid, the steam from the bath giving everything a hazy, dreamy quality that instantly made you feel heavy and tired. It was a stark contrast to how hellishly cold it usually was in here _(you would sometimes hold your bladder just so you didn’t have to sit on the frigid seat in the middle of the night_), and you guessed the tub had been charmed to prevent it from losing heat. Why hadn’t you ever thought of that?

Severus returned your pacifying kiss with one of his own, pressing his lips against your brow as he hovered over the tub, before leaning over slowly to gently lower you into the bath. You gasped as your skin made contact with the surface, and you moaned with satisfaction as you were submerged in blissfully hot water. Ooooh god yes, he knew how you liked it. You were reluctant to let go of his neck even as he released his hold on you, and he placated you with another tender kiss to your forehead as he gently pulled at your arms away. Your whimper was two-fold, both from the disappointment of his departure, and the ecstasy of leaning back into a searing hot bath, the water deep enough to submerge yourself all the way to your shoulders. There was nothing like taking a bath where both your tits and your knees could be under the water at the same time. Your frustration of his parting didn’t last for long either, the sudden pop of a cork alerting you to the fact that there would also be _wine_.

You were quickly reminded of _just_ how tired you were, now that you were in this position. The water was extremely comforting, and the flickering candlelight was hypnotizing as you watched the pale form of your lover across the room. You leaned your shoulders back against the edge of the tub and took a deep breath, but your drooping eyes flew open as you finally noticed that the water was scented. It was both floral and herbal, and you sat up slightly in an attempt to figure out where the fragrance was coming from. You knew this tub didn’t have all the fancy taps that yours did, so…?

Then you saw it. Floating on the shimmering surface of the water was a bundle of fresh herbs, tied together with twine. You reached out for it, letting it float closer so you could inspect it properly, attempting to identify each individual element. Juniper sprigs, rosemary, lavender and sage, all of them fresh, and gently bruised so as to better release their oils. Probably taken directly from the Greenhouse earlier today. The selection was earthy, resinous… _Grounding_, you thought as you gently swished the bouquet through the water, taking another deep breath. He wanted you to feel _grounded_. Stable. Safe. You bit down on your bottom lip as you released the bundle, watching it float away across the tub. 

“You’ve put a lot of thought into this,” you noted finally, looking up from the water to watch him approach, a glass of red wine in each of his hands. He snorted at your comment as he bent down to hand a glass over to you.

“I can be thoughtful,” he reminded you haughtily, and it was your turn to snort as you gently clinked your glass against his. Straightening up, he leaned back against the countertop, watching you carefully as he folded one arm across his chest, his hand resting in the crook of his other elbow as he raised the glass to his lips. He looked gorgeous, you thought, the flickering candlelight serving to accentuate his sharp bone structure, lean musculature, and dark, glittering eyes. You took a long, slow sip of the deep, heady wine he’d handed you, and everything about this was perfect.

Except for the fact that he was all the way over _there_.

“Don’t I know it,” you teased, reclining back the water, the tops of your breasts just barely breeching the surface in what you hoped was a tantalizing peek. “Aren’t you going to join me?” you asked coyly, passing your wine glass from one hand to the other, so that you could hold your hand out for his. He glanced from your… face, probably, to your outstretched hand, and then to the water, as if debating whether or not he was willing to test Archimedes’ principal himself in his own bathroom. But you also knew this tub was probably charmed to keep it from overflowing, so you rolled your eyes and thrust your hand out again impatiently. “Get your boney arse in here.”

He actually laughed at that, a quick bark of sound that sent a grin to your lips as he relented. He knew you quite liked said boney arse, since you couldn’t keep your hands off of it most of the time. Taking your hand, he hissed as he stepped into the blazing hot water, and you sat up in order to give him enough room to sit down with you. Once he was settled, you wasted no time crawling over him, stretching your plush curves across his wiry body as you tucked yourself against his side. Pillowing your head on his shoulder, he wrapped his arm around you, dragging his fingertips lazily back and forth over your upper arm, and you sighed contently as you took another sip from your glass.

“This is nice,” you sighed serenely, allowing your eyes to drift closed as you simply savored… everything. All of your senses were being simultaneously soothed and stimulated. The cleansing fragrance of the herbs. The rich taste of the wine. The gentle touch of his skin against yours. The soft glow of the floating candles. The comfortable silence that enveloped you both. Your prior arousal from had quieted down, as had his, but this felt intimate in its own way. You were content to simply enjoy being with each other.

“How was _your_ day, my love?” you asked quietly, a teasing hint to your voice as you slid your eyes open to gaze up at him. His eyes were closed just as yours had been, and he sighed heavily through his nose as he lifted his glass to his lips.

“Grueling,” he said simply before taking a sip. He opened one dark eye to peer down at you with a quirked brow, and you smirked. Cheeky bastard.

“You say that _every_ day,” you countered, rolling your eyes playfully as you mirrored his action and taking a drink from your glass. You could already feel the effects of the wine on your body, your limbs feeling heavy and your skin over-warm, even against the persistent heat of the water you were submerged in.

Severus opened both eyes, smirking down at you as he let go of his glass, where it simply floated in midair, the whirl of magic around it causing it to rotate slowly. With his hand now free, he snapped his fingers next to your face, and you squeaked as your sodden hair suddenly wrung itself out, before weaving itself into a loose bun at the base of your neck. Where had he learned to do _that_? 

“_Exceptionally_ grueling,” he tried again, and you hid your giggle behind your wine glass.

“Oh my,” you gasped in mock horror, wishing you could lift your other hand to metaphorically clutch your pearls, but you were pinned between his flank and the tub, and frankly, you had no desire to change that arrangement.

He brushed a stray lock of hair that was plastered against your damp cheek, tucking it gently behind your ear before he leaned in to kiss your forehead again. You were growing quite fond of those. “I think that means we should do this more often,” he proposed, and you perked up at the suggestion. Oh yes, you could certainly get behind that. Though most of your time spent together was in the form of quiet nights in, _this_… was just on another level.

And while you most certainly could have told him all of that, you opted instead to tease him. Because that was always your preferred method of communication. “Ah, so this wasn’t all just for me,” you jibed, swirling your wine slowly as you waited for him to raise to the bait. 

“Well…” He looked almost _ashamed_ for a moment, and your heart sank, wondering if you’d made a misstep. “It _started_ out as being just for you.” He reached up and hooked his fingers over the base of his wineglass, pulling it back down to his level and taking hold of the stem. “But I’m clearly reaping the benefits,” he winked, taking a long, smug sip and leaving you in the dust of his unbelievable sass. You laughed, before joined him in draining the last of your wine. You were considering asking for refill, but thought better of it, at least while you were still in the water. You very well might fall asleep at this rate.

Leaving our own glass to drift lazily through the air, you wrapped both of your arms around his lithe waist, slipping your thigh against his as you wrapped yourself around him. Nuzzling deeper against his shoulder, you kissed lightly at his collarbone, as it was the only part of him that you could reach with your lips. This was such a stark contrast to the previous evening, where you couldn’t close your eyes without imagining the perceived horrors of the future. Now you could close your eyes, and all you saw was comforting darkness, your mind blissfully empty of hypotheticals and meaningless ‘what ifs’. You needed this, whatever this was. 

“Severus, really,” you murmured softly against his skin. He started his lazy caress of your shoulder once more, and you shivered slightly despite the continued warmth of the water. “Thank you for… this. For everything.”

“You do that a lot.”

You blinked, taken aback by his stoic voice. You lifted your head, looking up to find him gazing up at the ceiling, watching the shifting light and shadow of the candle flame reflected across the stone. “Hmm?” you asked, feeling a slight ping in worry, but you calmed almost instantly as he lifted his head, gazing back down at you with those coal black eyes. There was so much emotion behind that look; it was soft, loving, while still being apprehensive, like he couldn’t believe that you were here with him right now, that he had you in his life at all.

“Thank me.”

Shaking your head, you nuzzled back against his shoulder. He was right, you _did_ do that a lot. And you would keep doing it for a long as you could. Because it was the opposite of the fear you felt last night. It was a gratitude you couldn’t put into words, of being given the chance to share your life with him. Having the opportunity to be allowed under his armor, and accepting the risks in order to build a life together. “I’ve got an awful of a lot to be thankful for.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Art by BlooeyedTroll!](https://BlooeyedTroll.tumblr.com/post/188444099604/snoodetober-2019)   



	16. Gemstone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: I don’t know why this one took so long to write -_-
> 
> Length: 1605
> 
> Rating: G
> 
> Warnings: None uvu

You had become exceptionally skilled at tricking Severus into going on dates with you. You were quite sure he was even privy to your wiles now, and _still_ he allowed himself to get duped into these situations. Like when you had casually volunteered to chaperone the next Hogsmeade weekend at the last staff meeting. You had watched him expectantly from across the long staff table (_a precaution to make sure you kept your hands to yourself_), and had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from bursting into giggles as he’d reluctantly raised his hand to volunteer as well. McGonagall had appeared flabbergasted, before she noted that you had your hand raised as well. Then she’d simply rolled her eyes and added both of your names to the list.

But really, what did he have to complain about? Hogsmeade was gorgeous this time of year. Gearing up for the Halloween season, many storefronts were decorated with pumpkins, gourdes and garland. The leaves on the trees had changed colors, a warm toned rainbow of red, orange and yellow. The air was cool and crisp, just cold enough to warrant cute winter outfits and a strong desire for a warm drink, snuggled close to someone special. The atmosphere was absolutely _perfect_… Except that Severus kept you at arm’s length. 

You couldn’t blame him, really. Your trick had been dirty, and you hadn’t exactly thought through the fact that you would be in public, among dozens of students, to whom neither Severus nor yourself had any desire to divulge your relationship. Your plan had backfired spectacularly, which was unfortunate, but didn’t mean you couldn’t still spend time together. He’d instantly shot down your suggestion to visit the Hog’s Head, stating that he had no desire to be glared at for an hour, and you tended to agree with him. He’d finally relented to a stop into The Three Broomsticks, to appease your desire to share a warm drink together, and to at least pretend that you were actually watching over the students. 

And this was how you once again found yourself sitting _across_ from him, in an effort to make sure you kept your hands to yourself, seated at a little booth tucked under the inn staircase for maximum privacy. Severus’ back was to said staircase, shielding him from the prying eyes of many curious students who kept glancing over, but it gave _you_ a wide open view of the main floor of the tavern. You were… already pleasantly buzzed, working on your third butterbeer and reaping the benefits of its slight alcohol content, given that you probably weren’t allowed to drink _real_ beer. Severus, predictably, had opted for a gingerbeer instead, which you thought was _okay_, but it wasn’t butterbeer by a longshot. You had been sitting in comfortable silence, simply enjoying your drinks and each other’s company. So you were caught off guard when Severus finally spoke.

“You’ve had this for a long as I’ve known you, and I still have no idea what it is.”

You blinked dumbly for a moment, pulling your eyes away from a trio of Gryffindor’s near the fireplace, your brows scrunched together in confusion. That… had come out of nowhere. What was he even…?

But his eyes weren’t on you; they were cast down at the table, and you followed his line of sight to your battered old messenger bag that you’d left resting on the table. It was an ancient accessory, still sporting deep gray stains from when you’d shattered an ink bottle in your first year of Hogwarts, but you’d been unwilling to part with it, still using it as your primary bag. It was in perfectly good condition, thank you very much! But his attention wasn’t on the bag, but rather the small sateen pouch attached to it. He ran his thumb over the pilled yellow fabric reverently, and you felt a blush crawl up your cheeks.

“Ah…” you laughed quietly, reaching across the table to fiddle with the draw strings of the pouch in an attempt to remove it from the strap. “I… Boy. I guess it has been that long since I’ve had it.” The knot came away easily, and you pulled the small yellow bag to the center of the table. “When I broke that ink bottle in my first year, and my mother sent me all of those muggle supplies, she also sent me this.” You pulled open the mouth of the bag, something you hadn’t actually done in many, many years, and tipped the contents of the purse onto the smooth wooden table. Three stones tumbled out, followed by a smattering clove buds, chips of cinnamon bark, and a star anise pod that had snapped in half. You pouted a little; when had _that_ broken?

You peeked up to gauge his reaction, but were unsurprised to find him looking entirely passive. So, no judgement to be passed. Yet. But he was watching you carefully as you set the yellow bag aside, so at least he was being attentive. “Amethyst, for protection,” you explained, using your pointer finger to line up the stones. The amethyst was dark purple, vaguely diamond shaped, with rough cut edges and a craggy surface, giving it a white cast. You gently touched the next stone, “Citrine, for success.” This crystal was pale yellow, also rough cut, but somehow more polished than the amethyst, with some parts appearing completely clear, like an ice cube made of sunshine. “And blue lace agate, for anxiety,” you murmured softly, as if embarrassed by this particular stone. It was the only one that was tumbled, its smooth surface gleaming under the dim lamplight. It was a pastel blue, with distinct striations in the stone, showing off different stripes of color. As a girl you always thought it looked like creamy mint candy. As an adult, you still did.

“There used to be patchouli oil in here too but it’s long since dried out,” you explained, brushing together the spices into a neat pile. “So I added these… hmm… in my fourth year?” You picked up one of the cloves, spinning the little dried bud between your fingers, before setting it back down. “I should replace that anise,” you mused quietly, before peering back up to him. He was watching _you_ now, implacable as ever, and you bit your bottom lip as his aloof gaze made you feel self-conscious. 

“Is all of this stupid?” you asked suddenly. Because there was a distinct chance that it was. You knew your mothers proclivities for muggle magic were silly, and knew Severus wasn’t a fan of the concept. But your question was the first thing to get a reaction out of him this whole conversation, and he appeared taken aback by it. Like he realized that his cold impassivity might have come off as disinterest, and he sought to remedy the situation by reaching across the table, folding his hand over yours, heedless of any students who may be watching.

“It’s not stupid,” he assured you, and you felt the knot in your chest start to ease, but… you also weren’t convinced of his truthfulness. And the suspicion must have shown in your eyes, because he shrugged a sharp shoulder. “Gemstones and crystals play a vital role in potion making, and indeed, in general magic,” he clarified, reaching out to touch the agate with his other hand, but suddenly thinking better of it, twitching his fingers away. “They’ve got certain energies, specific properties. Powdered moonstone in the Draught of Peace, for example.” His eyes settled back on yours, and he arched a challenging brow. There it was. There was always a caveat. “However, muggle understanding of those properties and how to tap into them are vastly inadequate,” he disputed, and you were actually surprised to hear that he _didn’t _sound bitter, for once. You always thought that the subject of muggles trying to use magic struck a chord with him. But he simply sounded… disappointed, instead of outright hostile. 

“While tossing some rocks and herbs into a silk bag and calling it a talisman is a little _basic_ in terms of magic,” he explained, and you narrowed your eyes at his insinuation, thought a smile still tugged at your lips as he laced your fingers together in supplication. “If it makes you feel better, it most certainly is not stupid.” 

You closed your eyes, sighing softly through your nose. He’d said he had no idea what the little bag was, despite all of the years of you having it. But you would wager he was just being coy. Because it would take someone watching carefully to know that this little bag of trinkets had brought you comfort for years. You couldn’t remember the number of times you’d dragged your fingers over the silky surface, fondling and tracing the stone shapes within, using it as a tool to ground yourself. Most of those times had been spent inside of his very office, if you were being truthful. Opening your eyes, you found him looking concerned, and you smiled sheepishly as you shook your head. 

“I guess I’ve got a thing for sentimental protective charms,” you explained softly as you started loading the stones and herbs back into the bag. Severus looked quizzical for a moment, before his gaze dropped from his eyes to your throat, where your bottle of phoenix tears hung from around your neck. You huffed a little laugh through your nose as you watched his cheeks turn pink, before dissolving into outright giggles as he hid his mortification behind his tankard of gingerbeer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Art by BlooeyedTroll!](https://BlooeyedTroll.tumblr.com/post/188463648314/snoodetober-2019)   



	17. Pumpkin Spice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: Another fun one xD I love writing from Sev’s POV goddamn. Just some fun and fluff uvu!
> 
> Length: 1424
> 
> Rating: T
> 
> Warnings: Slight innuendo

The entirety of your double potions class with Slytherin and Gryffindor was _already_ on edge, and you hadn’t even gotten through the first hour yet. You’d had to call out Longbottom _twice_ for nearly gassing the entire classroom, almost letting him add the wrong ingredient the second time just to show him what would happen. For a boy reportedly _so_ brilliant at Herbology, it was uncanny how often he bumbled his plant based ingredients. He really ought to be able to tell the difference between stinging nettle and putrid arania leaves by now. You would think striking the fear of god into his sniveling soul would finally teach him to _pay attention_, but nothing ever seemed to get through. Students seated around Longbottom were constantly glancing back at him, some with mock fear, but others with genuine distress, making sure that he was handling the proper ingredients so everyone didn’t end up in the Hospital Wing.

So, it perhaps wasn’t so unreasonable, when everyone in the classroom physically jumped at the sound of a sudden clatter behind your office door… including yourself.

Everyone had gone still, staring at the closed door with trepidation, instead of minding their potions. And you might have scolded the lot of them if you weren’t rather on edge yourself. There wasn’t too many possibilities for what that could have been. Slipping your wand from its concealed spot up your sleeve, your approached the door and pressed your ear against it. 

“Goddamn it Severus when was the last time you dusted in here…” you heard a hissed whisper from within, and you had to bite down on your cheek to keep from cracking a smile. Straightening up, you put on your most impressive glare as you looked back to the class, and suddenly everyone was diligently back to work. You allowed yourself a smirk.

“Continue your work. Those cauldrons better be dark red by the time I return,” you hissed, trying to add a hint of threat to your words, just to make sure the warning was properly received. There was a sudden scramble of motion among the students, surely trying to figure out if they were at the correct stage to getting their potion to be red, and you could already tell that the majority of them were. You noticed that Longbottom’s was still quite green, however, and you rolled your eyes. Hopefully the class would still be alive by the time you got back as well.

You took care to be exceptionally quiet as you lifted the latch on your office door, using well placed silencing charms and all of your experience as a spy to move quickly and silently into the room. There was a fire blazing in the fireplace, which you had not lit yourself, so you suspected it was the remnants of a Floo arrival. And said arrival was standing behind your desk, frantically searching the shelves of jars, bottles and tins for… something.

You didn’t announce your entrance, simply leaned your back against your closed office door, crossing your arms over your chest as you observed your lover ransacking your shelves. The clatter, you realized, must have been from the jar of cockroaches that was resting on the floor near your feet. So she was searching through ‘C’. But probably having a hell of a time of it, since you hadn’t had a chance to reorganize your shelves since… well. Since she had done it for you last, during her weeklong detention nine years ago. You covered your mouth to keep from snickering as she growled in frustration.

“It’s a common herb it’s not like he could just _run out of it_,” she was hissing, looking a little frantic as she moved aside jars and bottles, searching deeper into the shelves. You noticed a few bottles already laid out on your desk, and they were indeed common, mundane herbs; nutmeg seeds, dried ginger root, allspice berries, and cinnamon bark. You pressed your brows together in confusion, wondering what potion she could possibly need these for…

And rolled your eyes when you finally put together that it certainly _wasn’t_ for a potion.

What were you going to do with this silly girl?

“Find what you were looking for?” you asked casually, and delighted in the way she jumped, the squeak she made as she spun around to face you in a whirl of honey colored locks. Her face was flushed and guilty… though you did notice the bottle of clove buds clutched in her hands. She pouted. Severely. And moved towards your desk to collect her bounty. You followed after her, peering down at her aromatic selection, and arched a questioning brow that she simply couldn’t ignore.

“_Listen_,” she whined, struggling to find the words to excuse her absurdity, but apparently having a difficult time of it. “The house elves! They wouldn’t let me in to just get all this stuff from the kitchens! And I’ve been planning this lesson with my class for ages-”

“Are you going to be making pies?” you cut in, plucking up the tin of nutmeg seeds and rattling around its heavy contents. She snatched them from your hands with huff and you smirked.

“As a matter of fact, yes!” she countered, popping her hip out impatiently. Oh, she was really asking for it. “My third years have expressed an interest in cooking something the muggle way, and I thought this would be a seasonally appropriate option,” she explained, her voice prim as she crossed her arms under her chest, as if daring you to counter her entirely reasonable and perfectly creative lesson plan. You in turn, were struggling to keep the smile off of your face. She was cute, when she was defensive like this.

Well, she was cute all the time.

“And if the house elves aren’t letting you in just for the spices, where do you plan on getting everything else?” You stepped around your desk to tower beside her, but she didn’t shrink back as you propped your hip against your desk, reaching out to push a stray curl back into place, a fine excuse to plunge your fingers into her hair. “I’m afraid I don’t keep flour and pumpkins on hand, usually.”

Her ire dissolved almost immediately at your sweet gesture, but she rolled her eyes with a suppressed smile at your candor. “Hagrid has graciously supplied me with the other necessary ingredients, on the conditions that he gets to join in on the class,” she explained, nuzzling against your hand. You brushed your thumb against her cheek, and you could practically hear her purr. “Maybe he’ll start making something besides Rock Cakes if he learns something new.”

You snorted, and finally disentangled your fingers. You’d indulged long enough, knowing your class may be on the verge of exploding if you didn’t get back soon. “Indeed. Well, you have found what you were looking for then?” you asked, regarding the amalgamation of spices littering your desk.

She had the decency to look abashed then, turning towards your desk and fiddling with the tin of nutmeg. “You don’t mind?” she asked coyly, and you barked out a laugh. That was rich, considering she’d been planning to use them with or without your permission in the first place.

But you relented easily, using your wand to summon a small harvesting basket from one of the topmost shelves of your office. “As long as I get a slice of pie later tonight,” you insisted, and her face absolutely lit up like the sun. You supposed indulging her was worth it to continue being on the receiving end of looks like that. She sprang onto her tip toes to press her lips against your cheek, before taking the basket from your hands and loading it up with the spices. 

“You’ll get more than a slice,” she teased, giving you a sidelong glance accompanied with a wink, and you coughed into your elbow as you followed her around your desk towards the fireplace. She bumped her hip against yours playfully, before taking a handful of floo powder from a canister on the mantel. “See you tonight,” she smirked demurely over her shoulder, before tossing the powder into your fireplace and _whooshing_ off to her classroom. You pinched the bridge of your nose, holding your breath for a moment to gather yourself.

A moment which didn’t last long, as you heard some insufferable know-it-all shriek “Neville!” from out in your classroom. Ah, well. That had been fun, while it lasted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Art by BlooeyedTroll!](https://BlooeyedTroll.tumblr.com/post/188466576424/snoodetober-2019)   



	18. Outing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: This one turned out a little different from the others. I was really just trying to capture a feeling, and I think I managed to do it. It honestly feels more like poetry than a specific sort of narrative, but I hope you still enjoy it.
> 
> Length: 719
> 
> Rating: G
> 
> Warnings: None

The Dark Forest lost a lot of its eeriness in broad daylight. A great deal of the trees had felled their leaves in the preceding weeks, allowing sunlight to filter through the sparse branches, and littering the paths and clearings with brightly colored (_crunchy_!) leaves. It gave the entire forest an ethereal quality. It was still grey and foreboding, the wind whistling through the branches and rustling the undergrowth. But the sunlight was bright and clear, making everything that might have been frightening in the dark seem innocuous. You weren’t an idiot; you knew there were still dangers in the forest, no matter the time of day. Which was why you wouldn’t have been caught dead in here without Severus by your side.

This had been another one of his suggestions, and you were becoming quite spoiled by all of his thoughtful ideas recently. It was as though autumn brought out the romantic in him, and you were positively thrilled about it. He, of course, would not admit that this was a date in any way, shape or form. And if you were being honest, you believe him, because the man didn’t know what a date was until he was already in the middle of one. You found it painfully endearing, one of his many charming qualities. That innocence was also evident in how casual he’d suggested the outing. Though most would not consider the Forbidden Forest to be _romantic_, you found the setting to be powerfully intimate as you strolled together along a wide, well beaten path through the trees. Your fingers were intertwined as you walked, and you both had harvesting baskets hanging from your elbows.

You’d never gone foraging before. Not like this anyway. When you were a girl you would often explore whatever natural landscape your mother had taken you to for the weekend, and you would return to the car with your pockets full of rocks, seeds and occasionally bugs. But this time you were searching with a purpose, one that excited you greatly every single time you came across one of the items you were looking for. Your basket already contained a modest amount of mushrooms; a handful of chanterelles, one large and sturdy penny bun, and a curious cluster of bright yellow staghorns. The chanterelles and the penny bun would be for eating if you had anything to say about it, but the staghorns were going directly into Severus’ personal stores. Severus’ basket, meanwhile, only held a few chestnuts, a handful of blackberries, and a sprig of dark red valerian flowers that he had informed you he had no idea why he’d picked up.

It was… peaceful, walking together like this. The leaves crunching under your boots. The crisp, cool air filling your lungs with heady smells of decaying leaves and resinous wood. The quiet sounds of birds swooping and twittering overhead. There were also fainter sounds, ones that carried on the wind through the sparse trees. Hooves, you thought. Maybe unicorns, more likely centaurs. As long as you stayed on the path, you would be alright, Severus had assured you before you’d made your first steps into the forest. And those had been the last words spoken between you. There hadn’t been any need to speak after that. The silence was comfortable, something you always appreciated about being with him. You could spend hours together without any words. No meaningless chatter. No shallow conversation. You could simply… be… with him. 

And being with him out here, in this quiet forest, was unbelievably comforting. Like sinking into a hot bath after a long day, it felt cleansing. Grounding. Worries drifting away on the high, chilled wind. Anxieties crushed like leaves under heel. The thrill of spotting a cluster of mushrooms or a hoard of blackberries was the simplest of pleasures, one that you savored together as you collected the bounty. You knew that off of the path, danger lurked. You knew that in the dark, this would be a much different experience. But you couldn’t fret about the unknown. Couldn’t dwell on an uncertain future. Not when you had his warm palm in yours, his comforting presence beside you, the flutter of his magic beating steadily against yours. You could only exist in this moment. And so you would savor it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Art by BlooeyedTroll!](https://BlooeyedTroll.tumblr.com/post/188495842694/snoodetober-2019)   



	19. Warmth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: I want pasta now. Check out Binging with Babish for the recipe uwu! (just add mushrooms before the garlic)
> 
> Length: 1146
> 
> Rating: T-ish
> 
> Warnings: Suggestive language

A quiet night in.

To be fair,_ most_ of your nights were quiet nights in, but you’d insisted on going all out for this one. It wouldn’t simply be a night of quiet reading or comfortable talking. There was going to be _food_ involved, damn it! And _you_ were going to be the one to cook it! With or without the permission of the House Elves! Severus had, predictably, let you have your way with the common mushrooms you’d found in the Dark Forest. With a few trips to The Magic Neep in Hogsmeade, and a few exchanged letters and packages from your mother, you’d gathered all of the ingredients necessary to make the sexiest dish you had in your repertoire. All that was left to do was figure out _where_ you were going to cook it.

It had taken a lot of pouting and whinging for Severus to even _consider_ letting you use his potions lab. You really didn’t _want_ to be such a brat, but _honestly_. It was _practically_ already a kitchen, and you would only need two burners! He’d eventually relented, after striking a deal that involved you doing a lot of cleaning work for him in exchange, but you could deal with that. Somebody had to dust all of his damn jars, after all. You would make sure he didn’t regret his decision. 

_Pasta aglio e olio_ was one of those dishes that greater than the sum of its parts. It really couldn’t be simpler. Six ingredients were all that was required to guarantee that whoever you cooked it for, was going to sleep with you. Pasta, garlic, olive oil, dried pepper flakes, lemon juice and parsley. Add fresh, wild mushrooms into the equation to make _pasta aglio olio e funghi_, and not only would your intended sleep with you, but they’d probably stick around in the morning and ask to see you again, too. 

It had been sort of thrilling, to be the one standing at the work tables in the lab, while Severus was the one settled in _your_ chair in the corner of the room. He watched you closely as you cooked, his gaze bordering on bedroom eyes as you fluttered around your transfigured pots and pans. It was an interesting parallel, you thought; you could _easily_ get off simply from watching him brew. Did he feel the same way as he watched you cook? You’d always heard that cooking was sexy. Potion making certainly was.

Before you’d even begun cooking, you had made sure you would also have a cozy, romantic place to actually _eat_ the meal. And that came in the form of a pillow fort, propped up against the footboard of his bed before the fireplace. Held together with a few well-placed levitation charms, it was made up of the cushions from the window bench, the pillows from his bed, the pillows from _your_ bed, as well as the wine colored comforter from your own quarters and a few throw blankets (_you had the presence of mind to keep his own sheets on his own bed… you might be needing those later_). 

You knew it was childish. Sort of like the pajamas you wore as well; you still had the black and yellow flannels with the bumblebees on them from when you were a teenager, and the dungeon was certainly chilly enough to warrant them now. Probably not the sexiest outfit you could have worn for the occasion. But he certainly hadn’t complained, and indeed, he was more than happy to indulge your desire for a cozy night in as he donned his own green flannels with little bats on them. It had been a risky gift, one that you’d procured with your mother’s assistance, but the fact that he was _actually_ wearing them, snuggled up in a pillow fort that you had built, about to eat a meal that you had made, made you think your efforts had been more than worth it.

As long as nobody else on the planet saw him wearing them, you figured.

Settled into your comfy nest, you pushed your pasta around the bowl in your lap with your fork, watching out of the corner of your eye for him to take the first bite. This was actually the first time you’d ever cooked for him, you realized. Crescent cakes didn’t count. You hadn’t actually made those _for_ him. He’d simply reaped the benefits. But you’d made this with him specifically in mind. You thought he would appreciate the humble ingredients, the complex flavors they created, without being overwhelming. You knew he was sort of picky, liking to keep things simplistic…

His dark lashes actually _fluttered_ upon first bite, and you suppressed your smile as you joined him in partaking.

“Where, exactly, did you learn to cook like that?” he asked, two empty bowls later, as you both settled into a near food coma. You were sprawled out in front of the fire, your head pillowed in his lap as he carded his fingers lazily through your hair. Your mind had been drifting when he posed his question, and you smiled broadly up at him.

“You liked it?” you teased, looking eager for his praise, but he rolled his eyes and glanced at the empty bowls resting on the floor, like that should have been your answer. You giggled, stretching languidly as you draped yourself across his lap, leaning over to press a kiss against his stomach, an acknowledgement of your own job well done. “I learned from my mum. She had me cooking as soon as I was tall enough to reach the countertops,” you explained, closing your eyes contently as you settled into his warmth. “And I guess she probably learned it from work.”

“Is she a chef?” he asked idly, fingers still buried in your hair. If you were a cat, you’d be purring like an outboard motor. But his question struck you as odd. Had you never told him about what your mother did for a living?

You had to force your eyes open, your lids quite reluctant to part from each other, and you squinted a little as you peered up at him. “Mmm… No, she’s a bar… tender,” you clarified, but your brain stuck stupidly as you said the word. Because remembering that your mother mixed drinks for a living reminded you that she hadn’t only sent you flannel pajamas and a recipe card.

“Shit!” you squeaked, sitting up quickly, your forehead nearly colliding with Severus’ chin, but he pitched backwards just in time to avoid the collision. He was watching you with bemusement as you got to your feet, and you smiled apologetically as you reached for the tin of floo powder above the fireplace. “I’ll be _right_ back,” you promised him, before stepping into the flames and appearing in your own office. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Art by BlooeyedTroll!](https://BlooeyedTroll.tumblr.com/post/188590899469/snoodetober-2019)   



	20. Drinksona

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: Continuation of “Warmth”. Sev’s POV! And shout out to @BlooeyedTroll for coming up with these amazing drinks!
> 
> Length: 1871
> 
> Rating: T
> 
> Warnings: Suggestive language, some of Sev’s anxiety, callbacks to Lockhart and what he did in DS.

What an odd girl.

You watched as the fire fizzled from bright green back to glowing orange, and just like that, she was gone. You hadn’t the faintest idea what the hell _that_ was all about, and in the sudden silence she left behind her, you felt a little absurd. Sitting in a pillow fort. Wearing green pajamas with little bats on them. By yourself. Before you had the chance to cringe yourself out of existence, you hauled yourself up to your feet with a grunt (_you felt as though you’d gained ten pounds in one meal_) and plucked the spent bowls from the floor. You could at least do something useful before she returned.

You also made sure your office and bedroom doors were securely locked and warded. The last bloody thing you needed was for one of your Slytherin’s, or worse yet, _McGonagall_ to see you in such a state. You’d rather be caught with your pants do-…

Well… Maybe not.

It was a simple task of setting everything into one of the basin sinks in your lab and charming the dishes to wash themselves. Your entire lab smelled of garlic and parsley and frankly, you weren’t mad about it. House elves and takeaway didn’t even hold a candle to the meal you’d just consumed, and if you were being truthful with yourself… you could get used to this. You honest to god couldn’t remember the last someone had cooked for you. Like for _you_, specifically. It… was probably your mother, now that you thought about it, in the precious few years you had with her after Tobias left, and before…

You were supposed to be having a nice night. 

You sighed heavily as you scrubbed at your eyes with the heels of your hands. _Focus, Severus_. You couldn’t be falling apart the second she disappeared. It was dangerous to rely on her so heavily like that. But… you couldn’t help the wash of relief you felt when you heard the floo fire back up again.

“Ah… Severus?” she called out quizzically, and you took a brief moment to breathe, clear your mind, and return to the moment. The pots and pans and dishes were all scrubbing themselves in the sink, and you left them to it as you returned to the bedroom.

To find her knelt in the pillow fort again, a small tray of drinks hovering a few inches from the floor, and her arms outstretched like a muggle magician revealing their grand finale. “Ta-dah!!” she exclaimed, absolutely beaming with pride as she presented her handiwork. On the tray were four cocktail glasses, two Collins and two old fashioned’s. The Collins were filled with a pale pink-orange something, garnished with a sprig of rosemary and a slice of what appeared to be grapefruit, while the old fashioned glasses contained mostly clear liquid, as well as several slices of cucumber. The only word that came to mind was ‘fancy’, and you struggled not to grin at just how proud of herself she appeared. Back to the present.

“Is this why you took off like a bat out of hell after remembering your mother is a bartender?” you asked playfully, striding across the room and settling yourself beside her on the plush arrangement of pillows and cushions. She glared at you, her lips pursed and her arms crossed over her chest as she sat back on her knees, hitting you with her greatest pout yet. You reached over and ran your hand over her thigh soothingly. “What have you got for me, honeybee?” 

She stuck her tongue out playfully, before shifting to join you on the cushions, her glare melting away. “I asked my mother to send some… drink ideas. Something for you,” she plucked up the old fashioned glass, the ice and cucumber slices wavering slightly as she handed it over to you. “And something for me!” she took up one of the Collins, pulling off the grapefruit slice and squeezing its juice into the glass. “She also sent all of the alcohol, and some other goodies, so we kind of owe her,” she teased, leaning against you with a nudge. You forced a smirk onto your mouth, but really you were staring down into your glass with trepidation.

The one and only time you had met Gwendolyn’s mother, Vivian, she had slapped you across the face, for not protecting her child. You certainly hadn’t been expecting it, but you also hadn’t denied that you deserved it. She was perfectly justified in her action, because you _had_ failed to protect her daughter. Another woman you had developed an affection for, and you hadn’t been able to protect _her_ either-

“Your mother isn’t trying to poison me, is she?” you asked, deadpan, and though you were mostly teasing, you also sort of weren’t. You had been Gwendolyn’s _teacher_ the one time you’d met her mother. Now you were her… her _boyfriend_. You hadn’t really considered exactly how Gwen’s mother had taken that bit of information. How had that conversation even gone? _‘Remember that greasy potions professor I had at Hogwarts who’s twelve years older than me? The one that let me get drugged and molested by a celebrity in a hotel bar once? The bloke you slapped into the next calendar year after meeting him for only five minutes? Well, I’m shagging him now! Hope you approve, mother!’ _You cringed as you swirled the glass around, seriously considering the possibility that she was trying to off you, especially if she’d been the one to supply the alcohol.

But Gwen merely laughed, setting down her pink cocktail to take up the other green one. “Only if she was planning on poisoning me too.” She dipped the tip of her finger into the glass, giving it a stir before licking her fingertip slowly. It would have been an enticing little gesture if you weren’t so worried about the possibility of arsenic. “It _does_ have absinthe in it though,” she explained with a blissful sigh, waggling her eyebrows as she held her glass out towards yours, waiting for your clink. “So I can’t be held responsible for any psychoactive effects.” She winked at you, and you were forced to comply, clicking your glass against hers before leaning back and taking a sip.

And it was… actually pretty good. The taste of absinth was still quite strong, the flavor of black licorice right at the forefront, but was slightly sweet and citrusy as well. Lime juice, you would wager. Mixed with a little seltzer to give it a fizzy sensation. The cucumber slices simply added to the refreshing quality of the drink, and you actually found yourself going in for a second taste. Gwen was watching you closely, a satisfied smile spread on her flushed face as she took another sip from her own glass. It was the same look she’d had when she watched you take your first bite of pasta, though she’d been a little more demure about it earlier. 

“It’s good right?” she asked, fishing out one of the cucumber slices and taking a thoughtful nibble. “I asked mum to give me recipes for a drink you might like… this was her suggestion. I think it suits you. It’s called a _Green Beast_.” She winked as she made a little clawing motion with her green tipped fingers, snarling impishly as she leaned against you, and you concealed your grin behind your glass.

“I don’t know about the name,” you mused, taking another sip before setting the glass down onto the tray. “But yes, I’ll admit, it is quite good. And thankfully, not poisoned.” She rolled her eyes and ‘tsked’ dramatically as she followed suit, taking up both glasses of the second drink, and handing the unblemished one to you, since she’d already squeezed her grapefruit slice into the other. “And is this _your_ drink?” you questioned, looking skeptically at the pale pink concoction. Not exactly your color. And pink usually meant sweet. Though the rosemary sprig was a nice touch.

She seemed to catch your trepidation, and reached over to flick the slice of grapefruit off of the edge of the glass and into your drink. “I’m more of a champagne kind of girl. But I did ask mum for cocktails, so…” she trailed off, using the rosemary stem to plunge the remains of her grapefruit towards the bottom of the glass. “It’s not as sweet as it looks, I promise. Hope you like tequila!” she winked, clacking her glass against yours before taking a deep sip. You arched a brow at her mother’s bold alcohol choice, but if the obscurity of absinthe was your spirit, then the brashness of tequila matched Gwen’s energy just fine.

She was being truthful that it wasn’t as sweet as it appeared. It was mostly citrus, bitter grapefruit balanced against sweet blood orange and fresh lime. The tequila didn’t even burn (_much_), and you suspected that Vivian had sent something of particularly high quality. The rosemary didn’t impart much flavor over all, but it did lend an herbal perfume to the lively drink. Once again, you found yourself going in for a second taste, and then a third. You had an impressively high alcohol tolerance, but Gwen must have been a little heavy handed. You could feel your head starting to swim pleasantly already. You were starting to feel good again. A quiet night in…

“It suits you,” you murmured, mirroring her own sentiments as you leaned over to press a kiss to her temple. “Bright, and lovely. What’s it called?” She giggled at your ministrations, snuggling closer to you. Her alcohol tolerance was much lower than yours, and she’d already had wine with dinner. While she was _usually_ always this affectionate, it _really_ came out when booze was involved. You wrapped an arm around her shoulders, keeping her close as you eyed the leftover Beasts on the tray. 

“Paloma,” she answered, draining nearly half of her own glass, before reaching over and plucking the glass from your fingers. You snorted as she poured the rest of your Paloma into hers, and watched as she pulled over the tray to do the same to what was left of the Green Beasts. She took a final sip from the newly refilled Old Fashioned glass, before passing it back over to you with a wink. You took it, pretending to sigh long-sufferingly, and she snorted with laughter as she cuddled closer. 

“Am I as sweet as I look?” she asked finally, batting her eyelashes as she continued her assault on her cocktail, and you couldn’t help yourself. The second her mouth had parted from the glass, you captured it with your own. Sighing contentedly, she practically crawled into your lap in her attempt to be closer to you, snaking one arm around your waist and dragging her fingers down your spine. You swiped the tip of your tongue across her lips, tasting grapefruit and lime juice, and beyond that, honey. You didn’t remember tasting honey in either drink, but it was quite distinct now… 

Breaking the kiss, you peered down into her dazed, flushed face, and licked your lips, a clear answer to her obvious question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Art by BlooeyedTroll!](https://BlooeyedTroll.tumblr.com/post/188655286424/snoodetober-2019)   



	21. Scarves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: Continuation of “Drinksona.” Back to Gwen.
> 
> Length: 1271
> 
> Rating: T
> 
> Warnings: Suggestive language. They nekkid but nothing happens.

When you had written your mother, requesting some assistance with your little date night, you had inadvertently awakened a monster. You knew she meant well; she was your mother, after all. And mums like to be involved in their daughter’s lives, to provide help when it was needed, and, apparently, even when it was not. Your initial request had been for her expertise in mixology, and the acquisition of one particularly embarrassing pair of pajamas. She had answered your request… and then some. She had sent the recipes, the booze, _and_ the pajamas posthaste. But the morning _after_ your little cocktail tasting, you had awoken to a splitting headache, an expertly brewed hangover remedy, and apparently, three separate letters from your mother, as well as a small parcel, with _both_ of your names on it. It was even more embarrassing that a House Elf had delivered everything down to Severus’ quarters, even though the letters were specifically addressed to you. 

The hangover potion seemed to be taking its time this morning. You were propped up against the headboard, temple still throbbing as you tore haphazardly into the letters. Severus had his head resting against your thighs, his face turned towards your belly as he tried not to fall back asleep. You both blessedly had nowhere pressing to be this morning, so a lazy, hungover lie in sounded fantastic.

“Everything alright?” he mumbled to your abdomen, and you giggled slightly as his warm breath tickled across your skin. You were skimming over the first of your mother’s letters, a list of alternative drinks if Severus didn’t happen to like absinthe, and you rolled your eyes a little as this was sent well after you’d already mixed the drinks. The second and third notes were filled with similarly silly sentiments, asking you how the night went, if the two of you enjoyed her drinks, if you had gotten properly laid as a result. You blushed at that one, tossing the letters onto the nightstand on your side of the bed. You certainly _had_, but you weren’t about to share the details of your sex life with your mother.

At least not this early in the morning.

“She’s eager to know if you liked the Green Beast,” you replied, carding your fingers through his thick hair. He let out an agonized groan as he pushed his face into your stomach and you tried not to laugh, lest you smother him with your tummy. Yes, he’d certainly enjoyed the Green Beast(_s, both of them_), and now he was _deeply regretting it_. Severus didn’t usually get hangovers, but that’s because he was usually smart enough not to mix his alcohol. You had thrown a wrench into that by serving red wine with dinner, and then having hard liquor for dessert. At least you were on a level playing field now.

“Tell her to go fu…” he trailed off, and this time you did giggle wildly, the pounding in your head finally diminishing as you were able to laugh without wincing. Severus was still grimacing though, and you hummed soothingly as you continued to pet his hair, scratching your nails lightly against his scalp. There was a silence then, one that felt comfortable to you. But Severus shifted in your lap, finally opening his eyes. He didn’t look up to you though. Instead, his eyes were unfocused, thoughtful, as he lifted a hand to smooth his thumb back and forth against your hipbone. “What does she think of… all this?”

Your smile dissolved as you peered down at him, at the disquiet marring his features. You… supposed that was a valid question. You’d never really talked about it, your mother’s reaction, when you’d finally told her that you were seeing someone, and that someone happened to be your ex Potion’s Professor, the one she’d smacked in your seventh year. You honestly hadn’t been surprised when _she_ hadn’t been surprised. Your pining had been obvious to just about anyone with _eyes_, and she was proud of you for finally confession your feelings to him. You hadn’t had the heart to tell her that you’d confessed to him _some time_ before he’d actually agreed to act upon those feelings, but the sentiment probably would have remained the same either way. She’d had her reservations, of course. Like the age difference. And how he was a Capricorn and you were a Sagittarius. But, she ultimately trusted your judgement. You’d always been a perceptive girl. And it wasn’t like _she_ had any room to talk. She couldn’t even remember your father’s name.

You sighed softly through your nose, wondering how long he’d been worrying about this. You always prided yourself on your ability to communicate with him. How you never hesitated to tell him things. How you trusted him explicitly. You hopped he would always do the same for you… but knew that wasn’t always a given. He’d been guarded his entire life. That wasn’t something one simply broke out of. 

You hadn’t answered yet, and you rather hoped your delay wasn’t being taken out of context, but you knew that you couldn’t stall any longer. You reached over to the bedside table, taking up the small, flat box that had been delivered along with the letters. It was addressed to you, but it bore Severus’ name as well. You ran your fingers over your mother’s neat, timeless handwriting, before sliding the lid off of the box. And you beamed at the contents.

Severus twitched as a long swath of black fabric was suddenly plopped in front of his face, and you giggled a little as he finally forced himself to sit up beside you. He looked bewildered as he looked from you, to the small black mound on your lap, and he reached over hesitantly to pick it up. You, meanwhile, were already draping your own gift over your shoulders, positioning it so it hung modestly over your exposed breasts, before grinning cheekily up at Severus as he watched on in persistent confusion.

“Did you know my mum does crochet?” you asked, reaching out and taking the long, dark scarf from his hands. The fine woolen yard was woven together in a ribbed pattern, giving it a long, striped appearance as you stretched it out between your hands. The simple, thoughtful black was a stark contrast to your own, painfully loud scarf. She’d made _yours_ out of scraps of yarn left over from other projects, the result being a chaotic mix of stripes and textures, ranging from neons to neutrals and metallics. You continued to grin as you looped the black scarf over Severus’ shoulders, and it seemed that he’d finally picked up on the significance of what this meant.

Vivian had _made something for him_. 

You watched out of the corner of your eye as he stared down at the black raiment, running his fingers over the delicate stitching as you fished into the box for the included note. Again, it was addressed to the both of you, _Dear Gwendolyn and Severus_, and you scanned over the contents, before quickly shoving it back into the box and snapping the lid shut. You side eyed Severus, who hadn’t seemed to notice your sneaky maneuver as he poured over the fact that your mother _had made something for him_, and you slid the totally 100% completely empty box over onto the table again before returning your attention to your lover. You giggling at his sheer wonder and awe, and not in an attempt to hide your own anxious laughter.

_…I’d love to have the both of you over soon. I think it’s about time we met under better circumstances…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Art by BlooeyedTroll!](https://BlooeyedTroll.tumblr.com/post/188658802564/snoodetober-2019)   



	22. Punk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: Keeping Sev in character for this one was very hard so forgive me :”D I did me best.
> 
> Length: 2512
> 
> Rating: Hard T
> 
> Warnings: Language, some naughty touching, alcohol

“Oh… Good lord.” 

You snorted as you watched Severus sorting through his mail from across from his desk, seated in the worn leather chair in his office as you sorted through your own. This was a typical afternoon ritual; taking your tea together, either in the staff room or one of your respective offices, and going through your mail. Yours was typically quite sparse, usually letters from your mother or a few of your old school friends, occasionally a magazine or a periodical. Severus tended to have more serious correspondences to attend to, which was all quite mysterious at first, until he revealed that he kept up regular communication with the parents of some of his Slytherins. You would always use that as an opportunity to tease him about what a good dad he was.

But you suspected the letter he read now was not a message from a concerned parent. He was holding it like it smelled particularly foul, his face pinched in mild disgust as he scanned over the letter. You arched a brow, waiting for an explanation for his outburst, and when one was not forthcoming, you cleared your throat expectantly. Severus only looked more uneasy as he glanced from you to the letter and back, his face a peculiar mix of apprehension and defeat. As if he already knew what was about to happen, and there was absolutely no way to avoid it.

“Letter from a former student,” he murmured, attempting to play it off as he made to stuff the letter back into the envelope, only to pause upon seeing something _else_ inside of said envelope. His pale skin was already looking quite sickly. Your other eyebrow rose to the same heights as the other.

“Anyone I know?” you asked casually, tilting you head innocently, though you were obviously burning with curiosity. Being a former student who had once sent the man multitudes of letters yourself, you wondered who else had deemed fit to write their old potions professor. And what they had done as a student to warrant that look of absolute disgust from said professor.

Severus sighed heavily, clearly debating whether or not he actually wanted to know the answer to your question either. “Myron Wagtail?” he supplied bitterly, and he cringed as you immediately perked up in your chair. You felt just awful for causing him so much apparent distress, but on the other hand…

“The lead singer of _the Weird Sisters_?” you asked, awe in your voice as you peered down at the letter still clutched in his hands. At his reluctant nod, you coughed into your shoulder, shrugging nonchalantly. “I didn’t know Myron, but I uh…” Severus was already bracing himself for whatever you were about to confess, and you laughed sympathetically as you plowed ahead. “I fooled around with Kirley Duke a couple of times.”

He groaned with disappointment, and you laughed again as you stood from your chair, leaving your meager stack of mail in your seat as you stepped towards his desk. “Why is Myron Wagtail writing you?” you asked, leaning over his desk and making to take the letter from his hands, but he snatched it away before you could make contact. Your plan was flawless, as you plucked the envelope from his other hand instead. He made to grab it away from you, but you held it out of his reach as he was still seated, and took a step back as you peered into the envelope curiously. You gasped as your eyes went wide, and your gaze shot back up to your lover. “Holy _shit_, Severus.”

Severus released a longsuffering sigh as he dropped the letter to his desk, rubbing his face with both of his hands tiredly, before looking up at you from between his fingers. “Apparently, I used to be a source of inspiration for them, though I can hardly imagine why.” You arched a disbelieving bow at that. It was quite easy to imagine why a bunch of young and emotionally compromised teenagers starting a punk rock band would look to their long haired, black clad, emotionally distant teacher for inspiration, though you weren’t going to point that out. You wondered why you hadn’t actually realized this back when you were a student… but it wasn’t like Kirley McCormack did much talking when you were together. 

“Those are a token of appreciation, I guess,” he sighed, finally propping his cheek up on one hand as he gestured towards the envelope with his other hand. You extracted the two concert tickets to inspect them properly, a wicked grin curling on your lips as you scanned over the perfect storm of dates and times that you knew for a fact that the both of you had free. He looked positively defeated as he asked, “I don’t supposed you’d want to go?”

**-0-**

While you would never regret how you’d _actually_ spent the Yule Ball last year, part of you had been ever so slightly disappointed that you’d missed out on the _Weird Sisters_ set that night. You had, of course, been doing something _considerably more important_ at the time, and you would never begrudge Severus for doing what he had to do at the time. But dang. That show had sounded _rad_ when your fifth year Muggle Studies students had gushed to you about it the following week.

So you were particularly excited to gush about _this_ concert to your now sixth year students in return.

You loved any excuse to dress up, but concerts were particularly fun, because it was one of the few times you got to show off copious amounts of skin without having to be at a beach. You’d had the same pair of shredded burgundy jean shorts since you were 16, but you usually had to buy new fishnets after every concert; they rarely survived the night. Your cropped T-shirt was equally as tattered as your shorts, the yellow cotton worn thin and soft, the logo for _The Black Cats_ nearly faded away completely. A pair of Chucks completed the ensemble, and it seemed that muggle shoes were a hot commodity in the wizard punk scene; you’d gotten more compliments on a ratty pair of trainers than you did for anything else.

Convincing Severus to dress the part had been a bit of a challenge. He’d been exceedingly hesitant, of course, but when you reminded him that he would stick out like a sore thumb if he _didn’t_ go along with it, he’d reluctantly agreed. Especially if there was any chance he might be _recognized_. Though he did still stand out a little bit; he looked a bit more like a Goth who had wandered into the wrong concert. But what was most surprising was that he’d had the vast majority of his outfit already in his closet. A dark green turtleneck, shiny black Beatle boots and soft fingerless gloves. You’d transfigured one of his robes into something that resembled more of a hoodie, with a long pointed hood and a zippered front. Though you lamented making the back of his coat so long because sweet baby jesus; he may not have had much of an ass, but it didn’t matter how much ass he had when it was encased in leather. Oh, did I mention? The pair of _skin tight black leather pants_ that he just absolutely flat out refused to tell you how he came into possession of? You were going to be writing a strongly worded enquiry to Lucius Malfoy tomorrow. 

Wizard rock shows weren’t all that different from muggle ones. There was a lot of alcohol, a lot of wildly colored hair and intricate tattoos, and a lot of rowdy show goers losing their minds in the pit in front of the stage. Wizard punks had a lot more magic to work with though, the alcohol didn’t spill, the colored hair would change color occasionally, the tattoos would move, and the moshing was occasionally punctuated with bright sparks of magic and the occasional witch floating straight up to the ceiling before twisting back down to crowd surf. It was fucking _wild_.

And you could tell that Severus was wildly uncomfortable.

You felt a little bad, dragging him out to this show. Things you would find exhilarating, like the crowd, the noise, the high energy, were all decidedly out of your lover’s element. The Weird Sisters _had_ come through for their former professor though, and upon entering the grimy theater, found that you had access to the VIP section near the bar. It was little more than a row of booths roped off towards the back of the venue, but it did its job by being secluded from the raucous crowd beyond. The crowd you kind of wish you were in the middle of right now…

But you couldn’t really complain. The booths were clean and cozy, and it wasn’t like the two of you were the only ones back here. You had a small, slightly chiller crowd of your own. And hey! There was complimentary beer! Two of which you had already put away, and were working on a third, the dark bottles of strange Wizard’s Brew tasting so much better than the muggle pisswater that passed as beer anymore. You were currently occupying one of the booths, sitting side saddle in Severus’ lap as you craned your neck to try and catch a glimpse of the stage. The music was loud enough that you could hear every note clear as day but dang, it sure was hard seeing from all the way back-

“Why aren’t you out there?”

You jumped, turning your attention back to Severus, who you were rather surprised to find you could hear just fine, despite the volume of the music. Maybe the booth was charmed…? That didn’t matter, what had he asked? You immediately felt a wash of guilt splash over you. Had he noticed your disappointment? Had he peeked into your slightly drunken brain and saw it there?

There was no point in lying to him. You smiled sheepishly before offering, “’Cause you wanna stay back here?” You took another swig from your bottle, trying to swallow another wave of shame as he looked away from you, out to the crowd. God, why had you pressured him into coming? You _knew_ he wasn’t going to be down with this sort of scene. And now you feared you were making _him_ feeling guilty, for not being as into this as you were. For the first time in a very long time, you were hyperaware of the age difference between you, and you really wished you hadn’t insisted-

“Don’t let me hold you back,” he insisted, looking back around to you. “I do like it better back here, but that’s no reason you can’t go have fun.” You felt your mouth fall open at his easy suggestion, and he arched a brow as he clinked his own beer bottle against yours. “Come back when you need a break, and another beer.” 

You snapped your mouth shut, replacing your shock with a lopsided grin. God. _God_! How was he so _good_? You glanced back to the stage, to the thrashing crowd, the jumping figures. It had been so long since you’d been to a show like this. You could already feel the exhilaration pumping through your veins. Setting your beer down on the low table between the benches, you used both hands to take hold of his face, before crushing your lips to his. You felt his hand around your waist squeeze your side, felt his fingers slip between the gaps in the fishnets that were pulled up above your navel to brush against your skin. You grinned against his mouth. 

“You’re sure you don’t wanna join me?” you asked, knowing the answer as soon as you saw his eyebrow lift, and you giggled a little, rolling your eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Okay. Well, you come find me if _you_ change your mind, alright?” You leaned forward, kissing the tip of his nose before pulling back, sobering up slightly as you peered into those cool, dark eyes. “Thank you.”

It was _his_ turn to roll his eyes, clearly thinking that giving you permission to go enjoy the show was hardly a noble act. He punctuated the fact by swatting your arse with his hand to make you get a move on, and you jumped up with a squeal and a laugh. You waved and winked before exiting the booth, and he followed you with his eyes as you meandered through the VIP section, before escaping the velvet roped confines and joining the mass of writhing bodies pressed together in front of the stage. 

You stayed towards the outskirts of the crowd, your height advantage giving you a clear view of the stage. The show was _electric_. You might have been embarrassed by how much you liked Dancing like a Hippogriff, had the song itself not been accompanied by dance numbers performed by _actual_ leprechauns, elves and spectres. It was amazing how far the Weird Sisters had come, from being a group of dopey dudes wailing about ‘true darkness’ at Hogwarts to… admittedly being a _larger_ group of dopey dudes, but at least their music was way better now. 

Towards the end of the show you were panting, sweaty, and frankly running on pure adrenaline. You breathed a sigh of relief as Myron announced the last song of the evening (_you knew it wouldn’t be, and there would surely be an encore song or two to follow_), and you considered going back to find Severus, sure he would want to duck out early. But before you could turn around to head to the back of the theater, you felt long, cool fingers slip between the gaps of your fishnets again, just under the waistband of your shorts, and a hard, lean body pressed against your back. You would have jumped out of your skin, if you hadn’t been so used to the feel of him, the hot smell of cloves and coriander announcing his presence. You gazed down at the hands holding you, the fingerless gloves and the black nail polish you’d convinced him to wear, and slipped your fingers between his as the opening twangs of “_This Is the Night_” began.

“This one’s pretty good,” he muttered into your ear, and you shivered as his breath skittered against your cheek. You pressed your backside into his hips, and he returned the favor, swaying rhythmically to the song. You might have teased him about his outright refusal to dance at the Malfoy’s Masquerade, but this was… decidedly different. There was a current that thrummed through you; the high from the show, the buzz from the alcohol, the pounding of the music. And now the heat and flutter of both his body and his magic against yours. You felt lips against your neck, felt his tongue peek out to taste your damp skin, and you decided that dragging him out had actually been a _fantastic_ idea. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Art by BlooeyedTroll!](https://BlooeyedTroll.tumblr.com/post/188776175984/snoodetober-2019)   



	23. Fly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: I love this one???? And I hope you do too cause GOSH.
> 
> Length: 1023
> 
> Rating: G
> 
> Warnings: Fluuuufffffffffflufflufffluff

“So you’re telling me that you haven’t been back on a broomstick since your first flying class?”

“Is that so unbelievable?”

“Well, yes! Most muggle… _raised_ students can’t get enough of flying. Are you afraid of heights?”

“I’m not afraid of heights, I’m afraid of _falling_!”

“Ah, yes. Naturally.”

“Well what about you, mister? When’s the last time _you_ were on a broomstick?”

“I happen to be an exceptional flyer.”

“Don’t tell me you played Quidditch for Slytherin.”

“Well, no. But I did referee a Hogwarts match a few years ago.”

“You did _not_.”

“I did.”

“Bet you looked quite fetching in Madam Hooch’s robes.”

“_Gwen_.”

“Sorry! Sorry. That was uncalled for.”

“Would you like to try again sometime? I’ll be there to catch you if you fall.”

“_Wow_. Lay it on thicker, why don’t you. But… Maybe… when?”

“Right now?”

“Severus, it’s the middle of the night.”

“Precisely. No gawking students. No blinding sunlight. The moon is gibbous enough for some decent light. Won’t even need a Lumos charm.”

“You’re completely serious, aren’t you.”

“Have you ever known me to be anything _but_ serious?”

“Touché…”

-0-

You hadn’t been lying, when you said the last time you’d been on a broomstick was when you were eleven. Your first attempt at flying had been utterly horrifying; your broom had bucked beneath you the second you’d tried to mount it, you’d trembled like a leaf only a few feet above the ground, and you felt very close to peeing yourself and throwing up at the same time whenever you managed to gain any amount of altitude or speed. It had been a huge disappointment, actually. As a brand new witch, flying on a broomstick sounded like the _ultimate form of witchery_. You wanted to _be_ Margaret Hamilton and live your wicked witch of the west fantasy. But just like the first time you’d tried to ride a bicycle without training wheels, you’d panicked and cried and never touched the damn thing ever again. You… hadn’t told Severus that you had cried, or that you didn’t know how to ride a bike. But he didn’t _need_ to know that…

But maybe he was on to something with this whole nighttime flying business. 

The night was cold and clear, your breath fogging as you stood in the middle of the empty meadow, your mothers scarf around your neck, and a borrowed Shooting Star broomstick in your hands. Severus had already mounted his broom, hovering a short distance away, his own black scarf fluttering in the whorl of magic that kept the broom aloft. His expression was expectant, but patient. _Take your time_. _But don’t take forever_. It was a sentiment you were all too familiar with, though Severus was usually on the receiving end of it. 

You straddled the broomstick carefully, feeling the cushioning charm against your backside, and you stuck one boot heel against the footholds near the tail end of the broom. Just like riding a bike. Which you didn’t know how to ride. He would catch you if you fell. 

_I’ll get you, my pretty…_

Shutting your eyes the moment you kicked off of the ground was probably a really stupid idea, and you yelped as you pressed yourself flat against the broom, clutching your thighs tightly around the handle, ready to be thrown off at any moment. But it… _didn’t _buck you off this time. Instead, you felt a steadying hand on your elbow, and you whined as you peeled one eye open, gazing down at the slowly undulating grass below you. Yooooooou were flying! No, you were _hovering_. And it… wasn’t so bad, maybe. You turned your head to face him, and he offered what almost looked like an encouraging smile in the pale moonlight. Anything beyond a smirk was rare coming from him, and it emboldened you to try and sit up properly. You wobbled slightly, your grip on the wooden handle tightening, and his grip on your arm holding you fast. 

It took a little trial and error, but before long, you’d graduated from very slow, lazy figure eights just above the grass, to flying higher, and faster, and freer. Severus hadn’t been lying either, apparently, when he said he was an exceptional flyer, and you carefully followed his lead on a tour of Hogwarts and its grounds from a vantage point you’d never seen before. It was exhilarating. The chill wind whipping at your face, the drop of your stomach as you swooped and dipped between towers and under bridges, the great expanse of glittering night sky, closer than ever as you hovered near the astronomy tower.

And Severus seemed… genuinely contented to be up here. For a man who spent a vast majority of his time underground, you’d never been graced with such looks of sublime serenity on his face before. Well okay, that wasn’t true. You’d seen it a couple of times, typical after making love. But it always seemed to fade after a time, the disquiet of his troubled mind always returning once the afterglow had dimmed. But up here, in the air… It was like watching a caged bird get to spread its wings after ages of confinement. You’d had no idea that he’d ever even had an interest in flying. And you wondered if that was a passion that had been taken away from him…

You listed your broom close to his as you drifted above the astronomy tower, and made an exceptionally bold move by taking one hand off of your broom handle to wrap an arm around his elbow. He twitched slightly, broken from his reverie of gazing up at the stars, but recovered quickly, letting go of his own broom handle to slide his fingers between yours. You grinned at the chipped black polish that still clung to his nails, and you figured this was proper payback for taking him out of _his_ comfort zone with that concert. Not that he really minded. He’d adapted quite well. And you figured you were a quick learner yourself. As long as you didn’t look down.

But he’d catch you. If you fell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Art by BlooeyedTroll!](https://BlooeyedTroll.tumblr.com/post/188779855289/snoodetober-2019)  
A short authors note:
> 
> I’ve always had the impression that Snape genuinely enjoys flying and Quidditch. He DID ref that game in Harry’s first year, so he obviously knows enough about the extensive rules of the game to be able to referee for it. 
> 
> I also remember people using Snape’s “””jealousy””” of James Potter’s talent on the Quidditch Pitch as an excuse for their animosity (obviously we know better now). I just imagine maybe Sev did have grand ideas of wanting to play Quidditch as a student. Wanting that sort of comradery and acclaim one gets from being on a successful team.
> 
> And I have no doubt that he was made fun of mercilessly for even thinking about wanting something like that. You ever expressed your excitement about something you’re passionate about, only to be laughed at and shot down for getting so excited about it?


	24. Hands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: The rating is E is for Explicit but also for EXTRA SPICY. It’s mostly teasing, but this is certainly the smuttiest snoode I’ve written thus far.
> 
> Length: 1021
> 
> Rating: E
> 
> Warnings: Lots of teasing and naughty touching. Roleplay? Sorta.

His hands really _were_ beautiful.

As a student, you had been enamored by them. Their power, grace and finesse in the potions lab had all combined into what admittedly became an infatuation, bordering on obsession, as you dedicated yourself to committing their likeness to paper. You still had that sketchbook too, brimming with anatomical studies of his stunningly handsome hands. They had sparked your realization that perhaps it was _more_ than fascination that you harbored for your Professor. They were the start of this whole bloody thing… But as a student, you had only ever gotten to observe them with an artist’s eyes. You were only allowed to admire from a distance.

But you weren’t a student any longer.

You were seated in your usual spot in the potions lab, legs draped over an arm of your brown leather chair as you lounged across it, a sketchbook propped up in your lap. Severus stood at the tables across from you, deeply immersed in his work. He was using a mortar and pestle to crush just an _absurd_ amount of black pepper corns for the vats of Pepper-Up Potion that Madam Pomfrey had requested for the upcoming cold season. You, meanwhile, were staring, and quite unabashedly at that. You watched as he manipulated the pestle up and down, saw the twist of his hand on the down stroke to elicit the greatest effect… and your face felt hot and flushed with shame and excitement. It was an _entirely_ innocent gesture, one you’d seen him perform probably hundreds of times in this very room…

And all _you_ could think about was if he’d ever handled Lucius Malfoy like that.

Your mind had been in the gutter all evening, and your lascivious thoughts were evidenced in your sketchbook. As a girl, you had drawn his hands in the elegant acts of potion making. As a woman, you drew them partaking in considerably less innocent deeds. Powerful hands gripping pliant, supple flesh, clutching at bedsheets, tangled into hair. Long fingers, coated in wetness, dipped into soft folds, crooked _just so_ (_always to elicit the greatest effect, the bastard_). Oh, and _now_… You were inspired to draw something you’d never actually witnessed before, but you certainly had a vivid imaginat-

“You’re staring.”

You convulsed with a start, snapping your sketchbook shut with a rather uncouth expletive as you tore your gaze away from his hands, turning your eyes up to his face. His grin was almost predatory, like the cat who caught the canary, and you felt your face flush from the roots of your hair all the way down to your chest. Not that you’d never been caught with your hand in the cookie jar _before_ but… you’d never been caught with the cookies already in your _lap_.

“Anything you’d like to share with the class, Miss Goode?” he asked evenly, his unyielding gaze searing into you. And you could have cursed him to hell and back for being so calm, and also for the full body shudder he caused, calling you that. _That_ was playing dirty, and he fucking knew it. You didn’t think your blush could burn any darker, but as he prowled his way across the lab towards you, you could feel your skin prickle with heat, your heart thudding in your chest, your knickers slick between your thighs. 

You were struggling not to pant when he finally reached you, and you shivered again as he placed his delicate fingers against your bare ankle. His touch was light, barely there, and you swallowed a whine as he lightly dragged the backs of his nails along the length of your shin. “This isn’t the first time I’ve caught you daydreaming in here,” he chided, his eyes never wavering from yours as he continued his slow exploration, fingers tapping against the inside of your calf. Your knees jumped apart obediently, your skirt sliding down your legs to bunch around your hips, and he rewarded you with the caress of his palm against your inner thigh, his broad, warm hand petting further downwards. A soft sigh left your parted lips then, your head falling back and your eyes sliding shut as you felt the tips of his fingers prod gently against damp cotton…

“Now, let’s see what’s got you so distracted.”

You squealed as you felt your sketchbook snatched from your loose hands, your eyes snapping open and your body jolting upright against the chair. He was still standing over you, his hand still stroking your thigh with teasing pressure, but he had deftly flicked open your book with his available hand, and made quite a show of appearing surprised by what he found therein. You were both unbelievably embarrassed, and impossibly aroused, and it was all made so much worse by the smug smirk gracing his lips. 

“I had no idea you took such _detailed notes_ during our private lessons,” he extolled, and you whined as you covered your burning face with your hands. “I can see you’ve been studying _very hard_.” You peeked between your fingers to find him still smirking, but it was with a much more indulgent air as he held your sketchbook back out to you. You narrowed your eyes suspiciously, snatching it back and clutching it against your chest. But he just chuckled quietly as he bent over to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Now, now. Don’t be sulky,” he scolded playfully, before taking up one of your hands and brushing his thumb against your wrist, his other hand still resting lightly on your thigh. “I’ve got to get back to work,” he murmured regrettably, and you whined petulantly, thinking he meant to abandon you like this. But as he guided your hand lower, slipping under your skirt, your whimper turned into a gasp. He cupped his fingers over yours, pressing them firmly into the wet spot on your panties and rubbing slow, methodic circles against your arousal. He removed his own hand, but you continued the motion he’d set into place before he purred into your ear, “Why don’t you show me what you’ve learned in the meantime?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Art by BlooeyedTroll!](https://BlooeyedTroll.tumblr.com/post/188782603384/snoodetober-2019)   



	25. Candlelight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: YwY I have a lot of feelings about Sev and his Slytherin’s okay? Also cameo by a certain Slytherin youtube personality.
> 
> Length: 2184
> 
> Rating: G
> 
> Warnings: None really. The barest hint of innuendo but you’ll have to squint to find it.

You suspected Professor Spout had something to do with the jack-o’-lantern idea, because you couldn’t really imagine any of the other teachers coming up with it, as it was a very Hufflepuff sort of idea. And you rather wished you had thought of it yourself, because it was brilliant. You’d always wondered where the jack-o’-lanterns that floated through the Great Hall on Halloween came from, and had been simultaneously surprised and disappointed to discover that they had all been carved by House Elves in years past, probably using magic, and _not_ using much creativity. 

It just made so much more _sense_ to allow the students to carve their own pumpkins instead. 

You felt like the students of Hogwarts didn’t get much in the way of creative outlets. You’d had your drawings as a girl, but never really got to show them off to anyone. You heard that Gryffindor had once held its own student run art club, but that was rather exclusive to Gryffindor, wasn’t it? There was the Frog Choir, but space was limited to only the best of the best. And also to people who had frogs. So the idea of dozens of student carved pumpkins, on display for everyone so see throughout the Great Hall for the upcoming feast… it soothed your artists soul. You were excited to see the creativity burst forth from the students.

Each house common room was provided a hoard of pumpkins, a supply of charmed knives, (which could only be used to inflict harm on _pumpkins)_, empty cauldrons for all of the guts, and a stash of candles to test out the jack-o-lanterns once they were finished. There was also candy, pumpkin juice, butterbeer and snacks, to encourage participation and lend a sort of Halloween party atmosphere to the event.

Unsurprisingly, you hear that the Gryffindor’s had taken to the task with gusto, hacking and slashing the most ridiculous and ferocious faces they could come up with, much to McGonagall’s chagrin. The Ravenclaw’s were more subtle in their work, reported Flitwick, his students concentrating on minute details to lend more sophistication to their designs, creating some rather stunning works of art. Hufflepuff went off with the embellishments, going beyond just carving, sometimes painting the outsides, or adding gems and ribbons which you may or may not have personally provided for them at their request. 

And though it saddened you… it didn’t at all surprise you to learn that Slytherin didn’t appear to be the least bit interested in participating. 

You had been overseeing the Hufflepuff party, finishing up carving your own lantern when a house elf had tugged at your skirt, slipping you a note written in unmistakable red ink. It was a plea for help, because apparently _someone_ with blonde hair and a rotten attitude had convinced the entire house that whole thing was a childish waste of time. And while you weren’t really convinced that Severus _himself_ didn’t think it was a childish waste of time, you knew that Severus cared for his little den of snakes. This was supposed to be fun, to bring them together and give them something festive to do. And you certainly weren’t going to let a snot-nosed Malfoy ruin that.

The Slytherin common room was about as gloomy as you had expected it to be. Beautiful, yes, the bright moonlight that filtered through the blue-green waters of the lake giving the room an ethereal gleam to go with its ancient tapestries and green leather sofas. But the inhabitants were downright _melancholy_. The first thing you noticed was Draco Malfoy, lounging across a sofa like a king towards the far end of the common room, his head in Pansy Parkinson’s lap, being hand fed chocolates while he was flanked by his flunkeys. And it looked as though he would hex the first Slytherin who so much as _dared_ to approach the neat stack of pumpkins or the table of treats, which you damn well knew those chocolates he was eating had come from in the first place.

Severus was seated in an arm chair near the fireplace. He had a book in his lap, but you noticed that his eyes weren’t moving over the page. He didn’t look up upon your arrival; that much was to be expected. He had appearances to keep up, after all, which was probably why he sent you the note in the first place. He couldn’t be the one to ‘get this party started’ as it were, so he’d called to you for backup. For all intents and purposes, you were just an extra teacher, stopping in to view the progress of the carving project on behalf of Professor Sprout. You wouldn’t let your man down, though.

There was a handful of glum looking first years taking up the sofas that faced each other before the fire, a few of them reading, two of them playing Wizard’s Chess, though they seemed to just be going through the motions, much like Severus was. And while a few of them turned their heads to give you quizzical glances, most of them had their eyes on Malfoy, as if willing him to go to bed so they could enjoy some of the treats that had been laid out for the whole house, not just for him. A few other students mulled about, either studying or talking like it was any other night in the common room, and the whole tableau was absolutely pathetic.

One boy in particular caught your eye, though. He was seated in one of the alcove windows, near the entrance, using torchlight and moonlight to illuminate what was undoubtedly a sketchpad, if the way he was running his hand furiously across it was any indication. Your heart leapt and, your path marked clearly for you, you strode confidently across the room. Past the anxious looking first years, past the stack of pumpkins and table of treats, past Malfoy and his goons, who had finally caught sight of you and were watching you with contempt. The Slytherin in the alcove was entirely immersed though, and he only glanced up when you had seated yourself beside him on the window bench. You smiled warmly, and he eyed you keenly, holding his sketchpad defensively towards his chest.

“Don’t get charcoal on your shirt,” you whispered, and he jumped as he pulled the sketchbook away, glancing down at his white uniform shirt and groaning. You giggled, sliding your wand from your sleeve to cast _scourgify_ on the dark smear, and he murmured a short thanks. “I prefer pencils and watercolor for this very reason,” you teased lightly, observing his blackened fingers and palms. “But charcoal _is_ its own unique medium.” You saw his shoulders relax a bit, curiosity glinting in his eye, and you extended out your hand for his. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Professor Goode.”

He looked from your hand to your face, and deciding that you were aware of exactly what you were asking for, he slipped his sooty, darkened hand into yours with a snort. “Eugene Yang,” he answered, and he couldn’t keep the smirk off of his face as you withdrew your now smudged hand. His mirth didn’t last long though, as his eyes glanced out over the common room. He was an older boy, older than Malfoy, surely. And yet here he was, sitting in the corner and obeying the decree of the dictator: no fun allowed. But if your glimpse of his sketchbook was any indication, he had ghoulies and ghosties and long-legged beasties on the brain, and he would not be denied, if you had anything to do with it. 

“Pumpkins are a rather unique medium as well,” you suggested blithely, rubbing your fingers together, casually watching the black charcoal on your fingers expand further over your skin. “I’ve seen some of the work the other houses have done. And I know it’s not a competition _but_…” You indicated his sketch pad with your blackened fingers, glancing at the monsters therein, and this time he held it out to gaze at it along with you. “I think that would just beat the _pants_ off of the corny rubbish they’re carving up in Gryffindor.” There was a burst of giggles from a nearby first year girl, who had been eavesdropping over the back of an armchair, and you smiled a little as you finally wiped your hand against your skirt. You weren’t afraid to get dirty. “You aren’t _really_ going to let those bungling lions show you up on Halloween just because someone’s father might hear about it, are you?”

Eugene actually laughed at that, as did the first year girl in the chair (though hers was more of a nervous giggle), and you heard a strangled expletive from the direction of Malfoy’s throne. It really _wasn’t _a competition, and throwing Gryffindor under the bus really wasn’t in your nature to do. It was low hanging fruit to be sure, but it seemed to break the spell of solemnity that had befallen the common room. Eugene, his brow set and looking determined, stood from his place on the bench and strode with the confidence you’d bestowed upon him towards the front of the common room. The first year bobbed along behind him, and a few others followed suit, converging on the stack of pumpkins and taking up gourds and knives and cauldrons. The group near the fireplace had all at once descended upon the treat table, and there was suddenly an upheaval of chatter and merriment echoing off of the cold stone walls. 

You stood and walked casually back across the room, feeling pale blue eyes boring holes into the back of your head. But even if he _did_ tattle on you to _Daddy Dearest_… Ah well. You could think of worse things than being reprimanded by Lucius Malfoy. 

Severus had closed his book, his elbow propped up on the arm of his chair, his chin in his hand as he placidly watched the sudden burst of excitement from his children. And they _were_ just children, kids who were still enthralled by holidays, who liked to carve pumpkins and eat candy and would probably even dress up if given half a chance. And they also were _his_ children. A man wasn’t placed in charge of 70 juveniles without feeling some sort of fondness towards them. Even though his face was utterly inscrutable, the attentiveness with which he observed them was nothing short of adoring.

You perched yourself up on the available arm of his chair, a gesture you hoped looked casual enough, or could at least be overlooked by sugared up teens. Now that permission had been granted, you had a feeling that the Slytherin’s would be _just_ as detail oriented as the Ravenclaw’s. But instead of making beautiful patterns or recreations of fine art, they would certainly be appropriately monstrous and shocking. You saw Eugene on the floor in front of a couch, a small posse of first years seated behind him and watching over his shoulder as he carved some horrific creature into the bright orange flesh of the pumpkin in his lap. There was a mixture of awe and disgust on their faces, and you couldn’t wait to see his creation hovering in the Great Hall in just a few days.

“Thank you,” you heard a quiet murmur from beside you, and you fought down a smile as you felt the back of his hand brush against your knee, appearing to brush at the black smudge of coal on your skirt. A soft gesture, one that was surely too subtle for anyone to notice. “I know you were looking forward to this. Did you get to carve your pumpkin?” he asked, arching a brow and finally pulling his gaze away from the children for the first time since you’d arrived. You stopped fighting your smile then as you reached into the pocket of your robe, extracting what looked to be a miniature pumpkin, and a normal sized tea light. Setting the pumpkin on the nearby mantelpiece above the fireplace, you cast engorgio on the little gourd, before lighting the candle with the tip of your wand, and levitating it through the hole in the top. You’d had grand ideas for the thing when the night had begun, but ultimately, your design was intrinsically simple. 

Stars.

The whole thing was punched with stars of various sizes, the flickering candlelight within casting their shapes upon the nearby wall and mantelpiece. There was still design to it, though. If anyone cared to look closely, the constellations for Sagittarius and Capricornus could be found among the glowing forms. A few older girls nearby gasped and pointed at the starlight dancing against the wall, and thus inspired, ran towards the dwindling stack of pumpkins to try their own hand. You felt a broad, warm hand come to rest against your knee, and you slipped your own hand over it, headless of the black smudges you would leave, encircling his fingers with your own as you continued to watch the inspiration flow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Art by BlooeyedTroll!](https://BlooeyedTroll.tumblr.com/post/188917630069/snoodetober-2019)   



	26. Dare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: The start of a new “series” of Snoodes. I think a lot of you have been waiting for this B3c
> 
> Length: 1615
> 
> Rating: T
> 
> Warnings: Language, anxiety.

You couldn’t put this off any longer.

You were running out of excuses, and the longer you waited, the more difficult it was going it be. It was going to have to happen eventually, so why not sooner than later?

(_Because it’s terrifying! Duh!_)

It… was admittedly a difficult thing to process, imagining these two integral parts of your life coming together once and for all. The last time had been… a mistake. It wasn’t supposed to happen the way that it had, and you wished you could have intervened sooner. It would have been so much easier to take this step, to start down the next leg of the journey, had the last event never occurred. You’d been told that the past was in the past but… was it _really_? Would they really be able to put it behind them, to move forward?

Were _you_ really ready for Severus to meet your mother?

She’d been hounding you for days. So many letters stolen away into your office drawer, all requesting the same thing; that she wanted to meet him. It wasn’t like you could keep them separated forever; she was your _mother_, for Merlin’s sake. And with the way things had always been with Severus, there was no doubt in your mind that you were both in this for the long run. Both of them were going to be in your life for as long as any of you lived, so… what were you waiting for?

Your mother had assured you that she harbored no ill will towards Severus, that she wanted to meet him again on better terms, to get to know the man that you had fallen for. Likewise, you were certain that Severus had never held anything against your mother either, because he still believed he’d deserved the lashing he’d received from her. So it wasn’t that you thought old wounds would be reopened. It was just…

You were scared.

Even if they put the past behind them, what if they just… didn’t like each other? What if your mother changed her mind about him? Decided he was too old for you? That your relationship was inappropriate because he’d been your teacher years ago? What if Severus couldn’t stand her? Reviled the way she bastardized ‘magic’? Abhorred the way a muggle woman usurped an ethos that did not belong to her? These were all very real fears, and the last thing you wanted was for the two most important people in your life to loath each other.

Did you dare risk having to choose between one of them? Could you dare risk losing both of them? Just because your well-meaning mother wanted you over for dinner?

You were startled out of your reverie at the sudden _fwoosh_ of your office fireplace jumping to life with green flame. After quickly stuffing your mother’s most recent letter into a desk drawer, you were just slamming it shut when shiny black shoes fell to the hearth, and Severus ducked out of your fireplace. He eyed you curiously, having heard the loud snap of the drawer closing when he stepped out of the flames, and you offered what you hoped was a disarming smile. It wasn’t unusual for him to visit you in your office, but it was… a bit unexpected. It was rare that he ever visited your quarters at all, as you much preferred the lived-in quality that the dungeons provided.

“Everything alright?” you asked cautiously, glancing to the clock over his shoulder on the mantelpiece, seeing that was just after lunch time. Ah… So you were late. You made to stand from your desk. “I was just heading to the Great Hall. Sorry to worry-”

“That’s not why I’m here,” he interrupted, and you halted, watching him walk across the room to sit in one of the plush chairs in front of your desk. His countenance was impassive as ever, but there was a hint of severity that made you sink back into your own chair. “There’s something I wished to discuss with you.”

You felt your heart leap into your throat. You’d already been on edge, and his stern look and firm voice was not at all helping to ease your mounting anxiety. “Oh?” you asked, fidgeting with the arms of your desk chair as you watched him slip a hand into the inside pocket of his teaching robes. He extracted a folded sheet of paper, and you were immediately suspicious to see that the paper was basic, muggle lined loose leaf.

“Your mother sent me a letter,” he informed you, finally arching a brow and holding the letter between his fingers. He looked ever so slightly smug, and you realized that you had been _duped_.

“She _what_?” you cried, slamming your hands on your desk and jumping to your feet, flaming fury and cold dread warring in the pit of your stomach. You felt betrayed that your mother had gone over your head like this, but also ashamed that she felt the need to do so in the first place. Your face felt hot with embarrassment, but the corners of Severus’ mouth were fighting to stay even.

“She explained to me how she’s been trying to invite us over to dinner for a little over a week now, but feared her letters were being… _intercepted_.” He glanced away from your pink face to the drawer you had slammed shut earlier, and your all-encompassing shame made you sink back into your chair, covering your face with your hands and wishing you could just sink into the floor. This was a _disaster_.

“That vile woman, how _dare_ she,” you hissed, though there was very little malice behind it. If anything, it was a term of endearment for your mother at this point. You were just about to ask to see the letter when Severus spoke up again.

“I already replied back that we would see her tomorrow night.”

You lurched again, clutching your face with your hands and staring at him with wide eyes. “Severus!” you cried, though it trailed off into a whine as you realized you had been deceived once again. _Both_ of them were clearly plotting to destroy you. You could have smacked that devious grin right off of his face (_just like your mother had done_) as he slid the letter back into his robes. 

“Was I wrong to do so?” he enquired, the mock innocence in his voice making you despise him even more. When you petulantly crossed your arms over your chest, turning your face away to glare into the fireplace, he dropped the pretense, his baritone smooth and even as ever. “How long did you plan on putting it off, Gwendolyn? Until we got mar-” he cut himself off quickly, like a machete through rope, and you felt your face grow hot, your head grow light, as you continued to stare into the fireplace. There was a lull of silence as his half formed thought hung in the air between you, and you swallowed hard as you reached up to rub the back of your burning neck.

“No. Certainly not _that_ long,” you relented, cracking the barest hint of a smile as you finally returned your attention to him. He was just as red as you felt, but you decided it would be in both of your best interests if you… just ignored that, for now. That was a conversation you’d yet to have, but… you still felt strong in your conviction, that you were playing for keeps. You sighed and dropped your crossed arms, fiddling with the hem of your skirt as you dropped your gaze once more. “I just… I’m afraid it won’t go well,” you admitted, closing your eyes and sighing a deep breath. “Considering how super stellar your first meeting went.”

There was a snort from across the room, and you heard him rise from the chair, walking slowly across your office. “I believe most mothers retain the right to be critical of any man their daughters bring home.” There was a pause, and you heard him huff again. “Or woman, for that matter.” You smiled meekly, raising you head to find him leaning against your desk beside you, his hands braced on the mahogany tabletop. He reached out to smooth a thumb across your still warm cheek, before sliding a lock of your hair behind your ear. “Perhaps we can skip that step, since she’s already landed the first blow.”

You groaned loudly, pitching forward and thumping your forehead against his thigh. He chuckled, deep and low in his chest, and he smoothed his hand over your hair, blunt fingernails grazing over your scalp. “It had to happen eventually. Might as well be now,” he informed you, and you nodded reluctantly in agreement. There was another beat of silence, one where he continued petting your hair, apparently lost in his own thoughts. Despite his encouragement, you knew he had to be anxious about this too, if the way he’d acted after your quiet night in had been any indication. 

“Will you wear the scarf she made you?” you asked, finally lifting your head, his hand falling from your hair. He arched a brow, and small smirk forming on his lips, and you had a feeling you were going to hate whatever quip he had come up with.

“Will that keep her from trying to poison me with absinthe again?” he countered, and it was your turn to snort as you thumped his bicep with your fist playfully. _Smartass_… But… so was your mother. They’d probably end up getting along _too_ well, which was a horrifying prospect you hadn’t considered before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Art by BlooeyedTroll!](https://BlooeyedTroll.tumblr.com/post/188919417669/snoodetober-2019)   



	27. Feast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: Continuation of Dare uvu from Sev’s POV
> 
> Length: 2188
> 
> Rating: T
> 
> Warnings: Language, alcohol consumption

You’d done your best to try and soothe Gwendolyn’s nerves over the upcoming dinner with her mother, but it hadn’t actually done much to soothe your _own_ nerves in kind. You weren’t worried about Vivian, per se. Her letter to you had been polite enough, if a bit miffed with her own daughter, and your reply had been cordial as well. You wanted nothing more than to get along with the woman. But you’d just… never_… done this before_. Not like _this_ anyway. Surprising no one, you’d never _had_ a girlfriend whose parents you needed to meet when you were a younger man. The only experience you had to draw from was being 9 years old and meeting the Evans’ for the first time. You… didn’t think that counted, though. You’d felt more like a charity case in that situation, welcomed into their house only because Lily had insisted upon it, and allowed to stay only because sending you home felt like a crime.

Gwendolyn had babbled incessantly about her hometown, as if trying to prepare you for some utter disappointment. Which was a laugh, considering she’d already been to Cokeworth. Enfield reminded you of Cokeworth though, with its abundance of defunct manufacturing plants and perceived lack of refinement. The apartment complex Gwen had grown up in appeared to be well maintained… but poverty recognized poverty, and it didn’t take a genius to know just by looking that this wasn’t an ideal part of town. It seemed to have improved over time, at least, and Gwen was confident as she guided you through the darkened parking lot after Apparating into a nearby alleyway. She’d lived in this complex her entire life, she’d told you, just as you’d been in Spinners End for all of yours.

Her palm was damp and clammy against your own as she lead you up two flights of outdoor stairs, stopping before a terracotta colored door which had a wreath of artificial fall leaves and dried lotus pods hanging from it. Her fingers trembled in yours, and you squeezed reassuringly, if not for her benefit, than for your own. You were able to keep your expression neutral, keep the tremor from your hands, but your heart was trying to crawl its way up your throat as she finally rang the buzzer. Mercifully, neither of you had to wait long for an answer, as Vivian Goode pulled open the door only seconds later, beaming at her daughter with the kind of love that only mothers could have for their children.

Vivian Goode was remarkably beautiful, dressed in a long, low cut wrap dress of dark red velvet, not a smudge of makeup in sight. She had to be pushing 50, but she looked like she could have been Gwendolyn’s _sister_, instead of her mother. Though Gwen was the taller of the two, it was clear where she got most of her looks from; they shared the same body type, the same mass of wavy hair, the same hazel eyes. But where Gwen’s skin was bronzed and freckled, her loose curls bright and blonde, Vivian’s skin was smooth and olive toned, and her hair a deep chestnut brown. You also knew where Gwen got her fiery heat and fierce determination from; it was like glimpsing the woman she would be in thirty years… and you weren’t mad about it.

But after mother and daughter shared an embrace, Vivian’s keen attention was turned directly towards you. You always thought that Gwendolyn learned how to arch a mean brow from _you_, but you were quickly discovering that she had another teacher, and one with more experience besides. You nearly flinched as she suddenly raised a hand to your face, Gwen’s sudden gasp setting you on edge, but Vivian merely pat the cheek that she had struck nearly five years ago, warm affection and smug satisfaction in her gaze. Ah, so it was going to be like _that, _then. You smirked as you held a hand out for hers, and she laughed as she pulled you into a surprisingly welcoming embrace. Caught off guard, your smirk faltered as you saw Gwen over Vivian’s shoulder, holding her hand over her mouth to keep from giggling too loudly. 

“Well, it’s about damn time,” Vivian chided playfully as she stepped back, her hands still resting on your biceps as she gave you a once-over. You’d dressed as Gwendolyn had instructed you to, attempting to look as casual as you would allow yourself to be with dark slacks, a grey dress shirt and the long coat you usually reserved for wintertime. But Vivian’s eyes were drawn to your throat, and the black scarf that you had knotted there. She looked immensely pleased as she pinched one of the tassels she had crated herself between her thumb and forefinger, before winking up at you. “Trying to butter me up already, huh?”

Gwendolyn choked, and you couldn’t hold back the snort of laughter that came from you as Vivian turned her back on you both, entering the apartment and waving her hand casually towards a coat rack near the door. “Come on in, then. I made drinks!” 

Though you were wary of the promise of drinks, you followed Gwendolyn inside, removing your coat and scarf slowly as you took the chance to scan the apartment. Gwen had _also_ tried to warn you about the actual contents of said apartment. She’d described it as being the love child between Trelawney’s classroom and your own office, and you hated how accurate that description was as you stepped inside. It was rather dimly lit, as most of the lamps and light fixtures were covered with gauzy material of purple and red. Bookshelves were filled with records, bottles of herbs (_tea, perhaps?_), and strange taxidermy displays of insects, reptiles and amphibians. The walls were covered in small framed paintings, and it took you an embarrassingly long moment to realize that they were all created by Gwen’s hand. The furniture was dated and threadbare, the carpet worn down with well-traveled paths. The only modern looking thing in the entirety of the dwelling was a state of the art turn-table, a record spinning on its plate, The Doors humming through the living room. Like mother, like daughter. Thankfully, the place did _not_ smell overwhelmingly of patchouli, as Gwen had warned you it might, and instead was filled with the savory aromas of freshly baked bread, burgundy wine, and stewed meat.

You helped Gwendolyn out of her coat, hanging it up on the rack near the door, and as soon as her mother had disappeared through a beaded curtain into what was presumably the kitchen, Gwen pressed herself to you, burying her face in your chest and clutching your waist tightly. You rolled your eyes at the childish display, but you patted the top of her head soothingly, pressing a kiss to her crown. “I like her already,” you muttered into her hair.

She peered up at you with a reluctant pout, as if trying to gauge your sincerity. “Yeah?” she asked hopefully, and you couldn’t help yourself. You placed a kiss to her forehead, followed by a chaste peck against her lips. 

“Yeah,” you echoed, smoothing down her hair where it had been ruffled by the wind, and rubbed her cheek gently with your thumb. “And if she cooks anything like you do, I’m sure I’ll end up liking her even more.”

“Where do you think she learned it from?”

You jumped apart quickly, Gwendolyn’s face going red as you awkwardly smoothed down your shirt, and Vivian laughed delightedly as she made her way back across the room, two mugs in her hands. One was black with white painted letters that read ‘NOT Paint Water’ and the other looked as though it had been made by a 9 year old in a pottery class; lumpy and misshapen, glazed with speckles of yellow and green. Gwendolyn groaned at the sight of both of them, and you grinned at Vivian as you accepted the hand-made mug, steaming with mulled wine.

“Should I call you Professor? Mister Snape? Father of my future grandchildren?” Her questions were delivered so casually that you thought for a brief moment that she was trying to antagonize you. But it was Gwendolyn who shrieked with mortification, practically running for the kitchen with her mug of wine, and you understood that it wasn’t _you_ that she was attempting to antagonize. If teasing Gwendolyn was the name of the game this evening, you were all too happy to play.

“Severus is fine,” you relented easily enough, holding your hand out for hers once again. This time she took the offer, shaking it firmly with a strength that belied her slight frame. You appreciated her surrender. “May I call you Vivian?” you asked, arching a brow to match her own, and she grinned almost deviously as she tossed her chestnut tresses over her shoulder.

“I insist upon it,” she stated, before switching the hand that held yours, lacing your fingers together in a strangely intimate gesture. “Dinner is ready in the kitchen,” she announced, guiding you along through the sitting room and towards the beaded curtain. She peered over her shoulder at you, that devilish smile still playing at her lips. This woman would have made a fine Slytherin, you thought. “Hungry?”

“Famished,” you quipped back, pushing aside the curtain with your mug, to find Gwendolyn standing over the kitchen sink, splashing cold water onto her face. Oh, poor dear. You allowed Vivian to step in before you, and you followed suit, peering around the kitchen thoughtfully, taking in the odd knick-knacks hanging from the walls, the baskets of produce hanging from the cabinets, the round kitchen table that was laden with a veritable banquet of food. A basket of soft bread rolls, buttered peas, sautéed pearl onions, and a massive braiser of some decadent looking beef stew in red wine.

“Merlin’s beard,” you murmured, gazing over the feast. You realized that you were about to consume another hand crafted, home-made dinner for the second time in two weeks, and if this was the sort of life you had to look forward to, you would need to invest in a new wardrobe with a wider waistband.

Vivian, meanwhile, had burst out in sudden laughter, placing her own mug of mulled wine on the table. “That’s a new one!” she exclaimed, running her hand over her chin as if stroking her own invisible beard. “I might have to start using that.” She waited patiently by her own chair for the two of you to sit down, and Gwendolyn finally shifted away from the sink, taking her mug of wine along with her as she shuffled over towards the table.

“Mum, you didn’t have to go through all of this…” Gwendolyn murmured, her cheeks still quite pink despite the splash of cool water. You pulled one of the chairs out from under the table for her, and she glanced back at you with a sheepish smile, before she placed her mug by her plate and tucked her skirt under her bottom, taking her seat. 

“Perhaps I didn’t,” Vivian conceded, giving you a pointed look that make you quickly take your own chair between the two women. Vivian followed suit, primly sipping from her mug of warm wine as she settled down, before starting to plunge spoons and ladles into bowls and pots. “But when Severus was kind enough to _finally answer one of my invitations_,” she said, side eyeing her daughter with mock bitterness, which only served to make Gwen wilt with shame, hiding her burning face behind her hair. “I thought to myself, ‘What is the most complicated recipe I know, so I can use every single pot and pan that I own’? Why, Julia Child’s Boeuf Bourguignon, of course!” She gave you yet another expectant look, and you quickly lifted your plate from the woven tablecloth, holding it out entreatingly, and Vivian was pleased with your obedience as she started to load your plate with more food than you could ever hope to consume. “And since the two of _you_ can use magic,” she accused, waving a ladle back and forth between you. “You will be repaying my hospitality and earning my forgiveness by cleaning up after this.”

You lowered your plate in stunned silence, watching Gwendolyn sit up indignantly out of the corner of your eye. But before she could dive into any sort of rebuttal, you lifted your misshapen mug, holding it aloft towards your host. “Well played,” you admitted, as she had tricked you both righteously, just as Gwendolyn had duped you into allowing her to use lined paper in her first year. Yes, you could certainly see where Gwendolyn got it all from, and Vivian gave you a triumphant smirk as she clinked her mug against yours.

“_Thank_ you, Severus,” she avowed, taking a much deeper sip from her mug this time, before placing her elbow on the table and her chin in her hand, leaning across the empty space towards her humiliated daughter. “I like him already.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Art by BlooeyedTroll!](https://BlooeyedTroll.tumblr.com/post/189104405484/snoodetober-2019)
> 
> [Bonus Vivian Sketches!](https://BlooeyedTroll.tumblr.com/post/189076418129/vivian-goode-oddly-enough-i-had-yet-to-get-around)


	28. Bond

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: Continuation of Feast uwu back to Gwen’s POV. This hadn’t turned out how I originally planned. I was going to make it longer with more of a scene but… I ended up really liking it right where it is.
> 
> Length: 1184
> 
> Rating: T
> 
> Warnings: Alcohol consumption

It was worse than you could have ever imagined. Hiding away your mother’s invitations, despising your lover for accepting the one she’d sent him without your consultation, the absolute dread you had experienced before walking through the threshold of your childhood home. All of your woes had been completely justified in the last few hours. 

Because they were getting along _swimmingly_.

And you were left to _suffer_.

Dinner had gone shockingly well. The food was, as to be expected, completely divine. You remembered your mother making this once before, but recalled she had sworn it off because the cleanup had been more extensive than she deemed worthy. And though it still chaffed, that she was making _you_ do the dishes as a form of punishment for not responding to her letters, magic did make things considerably easier after the meal was complete. Meanwhile, Severus and your mother exchanged quips and jabs with a rapidity that boarded on mind blowing. You’d always prided yourself on being able to keep up with Severus in a game of wits, but the relentless way your mother didn’t back down had you beat. It actually reminded you of watching Severus banter with Lucius Malfoy, and _that_ was outright dangerous.

After dinner, with the pots and pans charmed to wash and dry themselves in the sink, all three of you had retired to the sitting room, where your mother had kicked off her shoes and curled up in the armchair, and you and Severus took to the couch. You were expecting, praying, _hoping_ for quiet conversation, for more mulled wine, for kind compliments over the baked apples your mother had prepared for dessert.

What you found instead, was a photo album, resting innocuously on the low coffee table in front of the couch, and you watched with muted terror as Severus wasted absolutely no time picking it up.

It started where most baby books began, with your mother in a hospital bed, her face sweaty and matted with much shorter hair, holding a wrinkly, red raisin of a _you_ to her breast, and gazing at you like you were the only thing that mattered in the world. These were followed by more hospital photos, of your mother surrounded by a motley crew of misfits baring baby clothes that bore the logos of their favorite bands, some of them with cigarettes behind their ears because hospitals didn’t really care back in ’71. It might have been alarming, to allow some of these people to even be in the same room as a new born, but they had been your mothers only support system at the time, and you still called some of them auntie and uncle. 

There weren’t too many photos after that, until about your third birthday, when the interior setting became that of this very apartment. The years previous, your mother solemnly explained, had been transient in nature. Those same misfit friends had allowed her to sleep in their spare rooms, had volunteered to watch over the newborn you while your mother tried to find work, because her parents had left her flat when they found out she was pregnant, and she’d only had so much in savings back then. Severus already knew this, you had told him so some time ago, but he nodded patiently as he listened to the story, his fingers lingering over the photos from your third birthday party, where there wasn’t a single other child in sight, and the only people who had attended had been your mother’s adult friends. All of you were eager for Severus to turn the page to happier times.

You had reached peak embarrassment when Severus had burst out into sudden barking laughter, at the one photo you had been dreading since sitting down on the couch. Your mother giggled into her mug of wine, and you swore to yourself that you would get both of them back for this. You couldn’t have been older than five years old; your hair was pulled back in bunches, and you had a tooth missing in the front. In the photo, you were sitting in a pool of mint green chiffon, the sleeves of the overlarge evening gown bunched around your wrists as you held a tube of red lipstick in one tiny fist, and a silver hand mirror in the other. It was, in fact, the same gown you had worn the night of the Society meeting, and you had a feeling that this fact was the source of your lover’s good humor. You looked entirely too pleased with yourself in the photo, black eyeshadow smeared over your lids, red lipstick globbed over your mouth. You buried your face in Severus’ shoulder to hide your shame as he continued to bellow with unrestrained laughter, a sound you were so unused to hearing, but you found yourself cherishing, even if it was at your expense. But your humiliation eased as he shifted to slip his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close to his side as his laughter tapered off, though he would sometimes shudder as another wave of mirth threatened him.

The sitting room grew quiet, the only sound being the gentle lull of Bach’s Goldberg Variations humming from the record player, and the occasional flip of the page. You felt sleepy and warm, the mulled wine having gone straight to your head, combined with the all-encompassing comfort of being… _home_. You lifted your eyes from the photo album to search out your mother’s gaze, but you found that she was already watching you closely, her knees pulled up to her chest, her mug balanced in her hands. And the look on her face was one that might have confused you, had you not seen the same look in a picture mere moments ago. 

It was the expression of a mother gazing upon her newborn for the first time, one of love and adoration, like you were the only person in her world. Yet, it was tinted with the faintest hint of fear. A fear that came from the knowledge that the world was cruel, and that she wouldn’t always be there to protect you from it, even when she had taught you to protect yourself. But unlike the photo in the album, there was an added layer to this gaze; one of hope. That maybe… despite what had happened in the past, there might be someone else on her side, who would love you and protect you in equal measure, just as sincerely as she did.

You offered a wobbly smile, and she returned it, tilting her head as she regarded the pair of you. You no longer feared that they would end up hating each other. They may have found equal footing by teasing you, by exchanging witty banter and sharing an exquisite meal. But their bond was formed in having the same goals; to love you, to keep you safe. And you’d never felt so foolish, to think that the two most important people in your life would ever clash, when they had something so critical in common.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Art by BlooeyedTroll!](https://BlooeyedTroll.tumblr.com/post/189116562339/snoodetober-2019)   



	29. Potion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: Continuation of Bond. This time from VIVIAN’S POV, something I’ve never done before. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Length: 2390
> 
> Rating: T
> 
> Warnings: Alcohol consumption, innuendo.

You knew it was getting late. Had this been any other dinner party, you would have offered to make coffee by now, the universal signal that it was time for your guests to get the fuck out. But the truth was that you were reluctant to turn them loose. The evening had been fantastically enjoyable. To see your girl again, especially after the weeks of her persistent avoidance… You knew it was nothing personal. You knew your daughter well, and knew when she was bottling something up because she was afraid of dealing with it. Your ploy to write to Severus _instead_ had worked out spectacularly. And finally _meeting_ him… He was an utter _delight_, much to your surprise. He was dreadfully droll, remarkably witty, and painfully smart. And though he certainly wasn’t _your_ type… you quickly started to see the appeal he offered to your daughter. Especially because it was undeniable that they were quite taken with each other.

You weren’t entirely sure what you had been expecting. You’d only ever met him the one time, and you barely remembered anything about him, except for the sting that striking his face had left on your hand. You remembered being livid with him, for failing to protect your little girl, for failing to tell you what had happened sooner. But you also remember how Gwendolyn had cried in the office that day. How she’d risen to his defense before doing or saying anything else. She’d always spoken so highly of him when she was a student, and because she trusted him, you’d trusted him as well, not even remotely perturbed when Gwen suggested he be her chaperone for that London potion meeting thingy. You have faith in your daughter’s judgement above all things, mostly because you had taught her to be critical, to be observant, to question everything. Mama didn’t raise no fool. 

When Gwendolyn had finally revealed to you that she was dating another professor… more specifically that she was seeing _him_, you’d been simultaneously relieved, and skeptical. Relieved, because you knew, just short of her outright telling you, that she’d been lovesick over this man since she was a student of his. And you had been _skeptical_… well. For the exact same reason. It was your mother’s instinct to be immediately wary when your daughter started dating a man that was nearly twice her age, and had known her for half of her life. But Gwen had assured you that it wasn’t like that, and you had no reason to doubt her. She’d even gone so far as to show you the box of letters she kept under her bed; the years of correspondence while she had been in Albania, every note he’d ever sent her, showcasing the slow and natural progression from formal names, to personal ones. 

And you saw, through those letters, just how much he cared for her.

You saw it now, too. In the way he held her against his side as he flipped idly through the photo album you had surreptitiously left on the coffee table for him to find. The way Gwendolyn pillowed her face against his shoulder, close to falling asleep in the comfort of his embrace. They looked good together, in an ‘opposites attract’ sort of way. He was all sharp lines and cool shade, while she was smooth curves and vibrant hues. Through the course of the evening, you saw how he would soothe her anxiety, and she would chase away his melancholy. He kept her grounded. She kept him present. They were earth and fire, and though you had been rightfully cynical of any sort of relationship between a Capricorn and a Sagittarius being _sustainable_… stranger things have happened.

You were pulled from your quiet reverie as Severus slid the book from his lap, back onto the table. He did this with deliberate movements, as it seemed that Gwendolyn had indeed fallen asleep on him, curled under his arm and breathing steadily against his chest. With so much wine and good food, you weren’t surprised. You were also relieved though, because perhaps this meant you wouldn’t have to send them away tonight.

“Is using magic under the influence looked down upon?” you asked quietly, watching as he carefully shifted her from his shoulder to his lap. She readily curled herself up on the couch, pillowing her cheek against his thigh, and he brushed her hair away from her face. “I mean, I assumed you used magic to get here, right?”

He didn’t look up as he continued stroking her hair, though it was well out of her face by now. “We did,” he answered quietly, before finally lifting his eyes to meet yours, a rueful smile playing at his lips. “And while Apparation while inebriated it’s not exactly looked down upon, it _is_ a good way to get yourself splinched.” Your eyebrows lifted in confusion, and he continued on with a grimace. “Ah, that’s when you… leave something behind. I think Gwen lost an ear, once.”

You started slightly, glancing towards you daughter, whose ears were perfectly intact, thank god. It was good to know that such things could be reattached, and you allowed yourself a soft snort at the thought of what _other_ body parts people might leave behind, before leaning over to place your empty wine mug on the table. “You’re welcome to stay the night,” you offered casually, trying not to sounds too hopeful that he would accept. This apartment was getting lonely…

Severus turned his gaze back down to your daughter, and resumed the tender petting of her hair. “Looks like we don’t have much of a choice,” he mused, gently pushing on her shoulder in a half assed attempt to get her to rouse, but she was completely out, and he sighed leniently. 

You smiled at his easy acquiescence, but then came to the sudden realization that you weren’t entirely sure where you were going to put the both of them. “Gwen’s room is down the hall,” you offered, wincing slightly as you glanced toward the darkened hallway. “It’s just a twin bed though…” you trailed off, trying to think of a solution. You at least had a double bed in your own room. Perhaps you could switch off for the night?

But Severus, ever the problem solver, it seemed, waved his hand dismissively. “I can use a charm to make it bigger,” he explained. Right. Magic. Duh. You were actually pretty interested in seeing how that would work, but found yourself smirking at the connotations. A charm to make the bed bigger, huh?

“Use that spell a lot?” you teased, waggling your eyebrows at him when he glanced up in confusion. His wan face was already tinted pink from the wine, but now you could see a darker flush creeping up to his cheeks and the tips of his ears. Oh yeah, you were starting to see why Gwen liked him so much. It was clear that the relentless teasing could go both ways. Severus cleared his throat uneasily, and you laughed lightly to diffuse the tension. Gwen had already told you a scant bit about their sex life, something your daughter had never been reluctant to share with you, as you’d raised her with the notion of being able to talk to you about anything. You’d never imagined your daughter dating such a prude, but it was clear that she was coaxing him out of his shell, little by little.

“Bloody hell,” you heard him mutter, and you would have snorted with laughter if you weren’t marginally afraid you had actually offended him in some way. But the expletive didn’t seem to have been uttered in embarrassment. Instead, you watched as he slipped a black lacquered wand from his sleeve, and you perked up instantly to watch him wave it over his shoulder. You gasped with delight as you saw a small, round bottle rise out of the pocket of his coat that was hanging next to the front door, and zip smoothly across the room to land in his outstretched hand. “I nearly forgot, I brought you a gift,” he murmured, and you eyed the bottle with barely restrained excitement.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you replied automatically, but even as you said it, you didn’t mean a word of it. Besides the fact that it was rather customary to bring a gift for the hostess, especially when said hostess was your potential mother-in-law, you were thrilled to see that it wasn’t a tawdry bottle of wine, or a bouquet of dying flowers. He’d brought you _magic_. And honest to god _potion_, and you couldn’t have been more thrilled about it.

“I wanted to return the favor, for the scarf,” he explained stiltedly, awkwardly, like he didn’t know how to go about giving gifts to people. Cute. You held your hand out as he reached toward you, and you took the smooth, round bottle from his hand. It was roughly the size of a golf-ball, the opening stoppered with a small cork and sealed with familiar black wax. It was full of a bright, canary yellow colored liquid that seemed to have a crystalline shimmer to it. 

“I don’t know what this is, but it looks delicious,” you chuckled, turning the bottle this way and that, watching the viscus fluid ooze against the glass. It reminded you of sour gumdrops, or maybe shaved ice with lemon syrup. You were tempted to break the seal and smell it, but you weren’t sure what it did yet, and if Gwendolyn had taught you anything about her preferred field of work, is was not to open up _anything_ unless you knew exactly what you were about to potentially unleash. 

“It’s called Euphoria,” Severus explained, and your eyebrows shot up your forehead. He chuckled at your apparent surprise, and inclined his head with a shrug of one sharp shoulder. “It’s exactly what it sounds like.”

“Is it drugs?” you asked, trying to fight down your smirk as you took to rolling the bottle between your palms. “Because it sounds like drugs.” Euphoria had an _excellent_ ring to it, but it really did sound like a psychedelic. And it had been many years since you’d done any of _those_. This would be one hell of a ballsy gift if it _was_ though.

“Not quite, though it does make food taste better,” Severus conceded, and this time you did snort, trying not to feel too disappointed as you returned your attention to him, listening carefully as he explained the effects of the potion. “It doesn’t impair you in any way. It just causes irrational happiness. I’d recommended it in small doses because the crash can be hell with anything larger than a spoonful. Put some in your tea next time you’re having an exceptionally bad day.” He gestured towards one of the far bookshelves where you did indeed keep several jars and canisters of hand blended loose leaf teas. “It tastes like peppermint, so choose accordingly.”

Peppermint huh? Your lemon fantasies were dashed, but at least it was a perfectly suited flavor for tea. It sounded more like a stimulant than a psychedelic, but either way it _definitely_ sounded like something you’d get some mileage with. You promised you wouldn’t overdo it, as he’d instructed (_you weren’t as young as you used to be_), but you were already excited to try it out. “This is… incredibly thoughtful of you, Severus,” you commented, returning your gaze to his. “Thank you.”

He looked pink again, pale skin gone rosy as he pulled his eyes away to look down at your sleeping daughter in his lap. “It was my pleasure,” he assured you, and you smiled wider. He was sweet, too. You gently placed the potion bottle on the table, careful it wouldn’t roll away once you released it. Then, you reached across the distance from the table to the couch, and wrapped your fingers around his, where they rested on the arm of the couch. He jerked slightly, not expecting your touch, apparently, but you squeezed his hand reassuringly. 

“And it was _my_ pleasure, finally getting to meet you. Like, for _real_, this time,” you intoned, trying to convey your sincerity through your smile. You needed him to know, that you weren’t just saying this for his benefit, or anyone else’s. You wanted him to feel welcome in your home, in your daughter’s life. You knew better than anyone that family did not need to be connected by blood. “You’ve watched after my girl for a long time now…” You released his hand then, and raised it to his face instead, cupping the cheek you had stricken years ago. “I can’t thank you enough for that.”

There was a flurry of emotions shadowing his face then. You imagined if he wasn’t intoxicated, he would probably have had better control over them. Surprise, doubt, guilt, awe. But you pinched his cheek like the mother you were, and that forced the barest hint of a smile out of him. “It goes both ways,” he admitted reluctantly, his dark eyes falling to the blonde head still resting in his lap. “She’s done more for me than I can possibly tell you…”

You smiled widely, rising from your chair then to stand before the both of them. Leaning down, you stroked your hand over your daughter’s silken curls. “Yeah, I raised her good like that,” you gloated, and Severus snorted, his breath brushing against your wrist where your hand still rested against his cheek. In turn, you bent down to press a kiss to his forehead, a motherly gesture that seemed to shock him just as thoroughly as hitting him had, years ago. “Goodnight, Severus.”

He watched you as you went about turning off the record player, returning the disk to its sleeve and leaving it on the turntable. When you collected the small bottle of Euphoria, wanting to keep the strange bottle close lest you misplace it, he seemed to gather his wits. “Goodnight, Vivian…” he said softly, and you smiled kindly before disappearing down the hall. You left on the hall light, as well as a small lamp in Gwendolyn’s room, before retiring to your own, reveling in the feeling of having a home full of family once again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Art by BlooeyedTroll!](https://BlooeyedTroll.tumblr.com/post/189241653129/snoodetober-2019)   



	30. Savor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: Continuation of Potion, last in the series. Back to Gwen’s POV. The E is for Explicit so 9w9 finally what you’ve all been waiting for (???)
> 
> Length: 1481
> 
> Rating: E
> 
> Warnings: Snape fucks. Also sort of spoilers for a scene that hasn’t happened yet in Dream Sequence.

You woke to the sound of birds chirping.

Which… was unusual, you realized, as you groggily turned over in bed. You’d spent the last several months of your life sleeping in the dungeons, waking only to the sounds of Severus showering, or the occasional shuffle of House Elves delivering coffee in the mornings. It had been so long since you’d fallen asleep in your own quarters at Hogwarts, that the sound of birds was actually quite startling. 

Even more startling to find that you _weren’t _in your quarters at Hogwarts.

You gasped, sitting up quickly to find yourself… at home. You blinked the sleep from your eyes, gazing around the softly lit walls of your childhood bedroom, sunlight filtering through the blinds, the drawn gossamer curtains casting the room with a hazy purple glow. Everything was just as you had left it at the end of the summer; your band posters still tacked to the walls, your bookshelves still laden with crafts and knickknacks, and your memory board still dotted with photos Desma Lampros and the Mediterranean. You stared down at your purple tie-dyed bedsheets, at the collection of stuffed animals propped against the foot of your bed… and you realized with a start that you bed was much bigger than you remembered. 

Severus occupied the space between yourself and the wall, huddled close to you as if trying to absorb every ounce of body heat that you had to offer, even when he was wrapped up in your woolen blanket from Albania. You smiled awkwardly, slowly settling back down against your mattress, and he automatically molded himself against you, draping an arm across your stomach and nosing against your shoulder. He was deeply asleep, but still he sought out the warmth he was lacking like a reptile, defenseless as he was without the mountain of blankets he usually occupied back home… or… uh… at Hogwarts. 

Because you were _still_ at home.

You tried to think back, to the last thing you remembered from last night. There had been (_so much_) mulled wine. There had been that damn photo album. And you supposed that’s when you had fallen asleep, on the couch tucked under your lovers arm as he flipped through your past. You could connect the dots from there. Severus had had plenty to drink as well, and side along Apparation was already complicated, even without alcohol. He probably hadn’t wanted to risk you losing your other ear this time. So… You’d stayed home. He must have used some sort of charm on the bed, because you’d been sleeping in the same twin size bed since you were six, and the bed you occupied now was at least double that. It practically swallowed the floor space of your small bedroom… But it was comfortable, and awfully warm.

You internally groaned at the realization that you had effectively left Severus alone with your mother for some of the night. Had he been defenseless under her scrutiny without you there to play mediator? Had he clammed up, or lashed out, like he tended to do with people he didn’t know? Or had they gotten along? Clearly they’d gotten on well enough for him to still be here. Mother must have offered to let both of you stay the night, not just you. Then there was the thought of him snooping around your bedroom. It was the first time he’d ever seen it, and you feared that its childishness might have been a turnoff…

You sighed softly as you rolled over in the bed to face him, and took this quiet moment to study his face in good lighting. If this were any other morning, where you had somehow managed to wake up before him, the dungeon was usually too dark to even see your own hand in front of your face, much less get a chance to observe his while in repose. To see the muscles of his jaw slack, the crease in his brow smooth, the dark smudges of his lashes fanned against his sharp cheeks. He looked so much younger when he slept. Sometimes you forgot that he was still a young man. Older than you, yes, but he wasn’t _old_. He was just… old for his years, you supposed. He’d suffered more sadness, more hardship, in just over 30 years than some people ever experience in a lifetime. 

You lifted a hand, pushing a stray lock of his lank hair out of his face, and you silently cursed yourself as he stirred, those dark lashes fluttering as he drew a sudden breath. There was a pause as he seemed to be considering why in the world he was sleeping on purple tie-dye, but then he raised his dark eyes to meet yours, and to your astonishment, he offered you a drowsy smile. 

“‘Time is it?” he mumbled, his voice deep and raspy with sleep, and you smiled as he wrapped both of his arms around your waist, drawing you closer to him, nuzzling his face against your naked collarbone.

“Dunno,” you replied truthfully, slipping your fingers into his hair and kissing the crown of his head. “Early still.” That seemed true enough. All you could hear outside were the birds. If it had been later, there would have been the cries of children playing in the parking lot on their day off from school. You would have heard your mother shuffling about in the kitchen, or the cries of Mrs. Linden’s cats next door, begging to be let in after a night out unsuccessfully catching mice. “Go back to sleep, love…”

“Not a chance,” he yawned, and you smiled a little, because you felt the same. Once you were up, you were up. But neither of you made any move to actually _get_ up. It was too warm, too comfortable, and the very notion of quitting the bed to do anything of any importance was absolutely abhorrent. So you stayed like this. Dozing. Running your fingers through his inky hair, his cheek resting against your breast as he breathed you in. 

It wasn’t long before you felt lips on your skin, and you smiled sleepily he kissed your sternum, your collarbone, your neck. He certainly _wasn’t_ an old man, and you could feel the arousal he’d woken with pressed against your hip. And far be it from you to say no to that sort of good morning.

It was a little strange, being in your own bed like this, in the room you’d grown up in. The same room, the same bed, where you’d discovered your own sexuality as a girl, but had never taken a lover before. There was a parallel between this and the first time you’d ever slept together. You hadn’t been his first, just as he hadn’t been yours. But you _had_ been the first woman he’d ever taken to his own bed, in his own home, in Spinners End. The juxtaposition wasn’t lost on you now, either, your first time sharing _this_ bed with another, as he shifted over you, settled against you, pressed into you with a slow, aching tenderness that took your breath away.

He was quiet, panting into your neck, latching his lips to your skin to tame himself from making sound. And it was so different from your first time, when he had been quiet for much different reasons, when his hands had been hesitant and unsure. _Now_, his hands roamed your body with warm familiarity, clutching your thighs, stroking you sides, kneading your breasts. You wrapped your arms around his neck, tangled your fingers into his length of black hair, and slid your legs around his narrow hips to keep him close, press him deep, rock him into you with measured, unhurried strokes. When he felt your walls begin to flutter around him, he slid a hand between you, used his thumb to rub firm, deliberate circles against your arousal, and you arched your back up off of the bed with the magnitude of the sensation, biting down on your bottom lip to keep from crying out. He tumbled soon after you, his hips stalling and stuttering against yours as his trembling breath whispered against your neck. 

You kept your legs wrapped around him, refusing to let him go, relishing the feeling of having him buried inside of you, even as he began to soften. He rested his head against your shoulder, panting quietly as he caught his breath, tremors still shuddering up his spine and shoulders in the afterglow. You dragged your fingertips over the pale, flushed planes of his back as you held him within you, feeling deep contentment in this moment, savoring every soft breath, every gentle touch. The sound of the birds outside, mingling with the beating of his heart against your chest. This was what home felt like now. Home was wherever he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Art by BlooeyedTroll!](https://BlooeyedTroll.tumblr.com/post/189260923864/snoodetober-2019)   



	31. Treats

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: I want to thank @losers-never-love on tumblr for letting me borrow their headcanon about Sev’s preferred Halloween costume as a kid uvu
> 
> Also I sort of fudged this prompt. There’s only treats if you squint.
> 
> Length: 3070
> 
> Rating: T
> 
> Warnings: Lots of headcanon I guess lmao. And angst the house.

This was your first time seeing Cokeworth in the daylight.

Every time you’d ever visited Spinner’s End, it had either been nighttime, or it had been raining. That seemed to be Cokeworth’s constant state of being; dark, dull, decrepit. And the sunlight did not do much to improve the situation. The day was unseasonably bright, both by Cokeworth and English standards in general, and it only served to highlight the blemishes marring this sad little town; the dirty river, the towering smokestacks, the crumbling cobbles. They painted a stark picture of decay, and you wondered why Severus still stayed here.

This visit to Spinner’s End had not been planned. Your mother had made a vain attempt to get you to extend your stay by making crepes in another inexcusable display of French cookery, but you would not be swayed to stay beyond the sweets. Because, frankly, you knew when Severus was close to exhausting his reserves of tolerance for social interaction. He’d been quiet, though cordial during breakfast. But it didn’t escape you, the way he fidgeted his fingers over the handle of his coffee mug, how his cheek would twitch as if disturbed by some meddlesome gnat. Even after you had said your goodbyes, your mother insisting you visit more often, he’d remained reserved as you walked across the parking lot, though he did allow you to twine your fingers together with his. 

The alleyway you had arrived in was too bright to be preforming magic in, so you started the lengthy trek towards to nearest Apparation point, which was a few blocks away behind a defunct post office. But the air was cool and crisp, the sunlight peeking through sparse clouds, and the solitude of the walk seemed to be enough to soothe your lover back into speaking. He’d admitted that he’d had a nice time, that your mother was just so… motherly, and that he wouldn’t be opposed to visiting again (_he’d never had a crepe in his life_). You were immeasurably relieved to hear this, but you couldn’t help but inform him that your mother was just spoiling him.

It was this line of conversation that had ultimately brought you to Spinner’s End. You were so pleased that he’d gotten along with your mother, but this lead you to wonder about his own. You had tentatively asked if he had a photo of her for the Samhain altar, if he wanted to include one, and he’d gone silent once again after that. You feared you may have pressed too hard on a bruise, but after a time, he simply admitted that he didn’t keep any photos at the castle…

You didn’t blame him, for hating it here. He had every reason to. He was upstairs now, searching for an acceptable photograph, and you could hear the boards overhead creaking as he moved about the master bedroom. It had once been his parent’s room (_unsurprising_), but he’d eventually gotten sick of staying in his cramped boyhood bed after he inherited the house, and reluctantly moved to the larger space after his mother had passed. There was something incredibly _vulnerable_ about that, you thought, as you remembered the first night you had spent with him in that room. And though the memory did not fill you with passion, it still left you aching for him.

You meanwhile, where left in the sitting room, and though you would never admit it out loud to him, you found this particular room to be inexplicably _cozy_. Some would call it cramped, but you found it comforting; the smell of books, the dim candle lighting, the worn down furniture. You were sure the room hadn’t always been like this; from what you’d gathered, Tobias Snape had very little love for magic, or knowledge in general. So the fact that the sitting room was now crammed floor to ceiling with books of spells, potions and rituals… it was a great big middle finger to Tobias, and it was also very telling of the intellect of the man who occupied this dwelling _now_. The books were innumerable, and you had no doubt that he had read every single one of them.

He hadn’t simply left you idle, however. While he’d gone up stairs to conduct his own search, he’d reluctantly left _you_ with a photo album, dropping the heavy leather bound book onto the sofa after pulling it from one of the many shelves. He’d given you no explanation, other than requesting that you look through it for any satisfactory pictures, before he’d hastily cracked open the bookcase and made his way up the concealed stairs. You got the decidedly uncomfortable feeling that he didn’t want to look through this particular book himself, which made you all the more anxious about going through it alone. You settled onto the couch, sitting cross legged with zero regard for the length of your skirt, and pulled the album into your lap. 

It was full of wedding photos.

You sucked in a breath as you gazed down at the sepia toned images. You felt like a voyeur, like you were looking at something private and personal, but you were also overwhelmed by morbid curiosity. Especially because Eileen looked positively radiant, her black hair pinned back with a soft veil, her A-line dress actually appearing quite trendy, if a bit ill-fitting, with scalloped lace layered over copious amounts of tulle, a bouquet of hydrangeas in her hands, which made you smile. She looked love-struck and happy. And Tobias… actually looked the same. Perhaps more restrained than Eileen, but he actually looked genuinely in love in each and every photo. He inexplicably reminded you of Al Pacino in The Godfather, with his dark suit and slicked back hair, and as you flipped through these pictures of them both looking young and happy… you couldn’t help but wonder what went wrong. 

There weren’t _many_ wedding photos, you noticed, flipping back and forth between first few pages of the book. They were also perfectly still, indicating that they’d been taken by a muggle camera. The poses were all quite traditional looking; standing on the front steps of an old church, facing each other in front of the altar, seated on a stone bench in a rose garden. It eventually dawned on you that something was off with the short series of photos; no one else was in them. No bridesmaids. No groomsmen. No ring bearer or flower girl. They were perfectly alone in each and every photo, and as you pressed on through the rest of the album, this remained true. While your mother had an absurd amount of oddball friends, it looked like Eileen and Tobias only had each other. Until Severus was born.

There was no other photos between the wedding pictures and the baby pictures. As if there had been no occasion to take any photos between the two dates. The quality of the images dropped considerably as well, taken with a home camera, instead of by a professional. Tobias wasn’t in a single one of them, as you suspected he was behind the lens. But even so, you could see in Eileen alone, that the years between had not been kind. She looked tired, sullen, a stark contrast from how bright and hopeful she’d been just a page before. Though that love-struck light was still in her eyes, it only gleamed when she gazed down at the tiny, squalling baby in her arms. The moment she looked up at the camera, it would drop. And you were starting to understand why Severus hadn’t wanted to go through this album himself.

You got the impression that Eileen had eventually taken possession of the camera, as all of the photos thereafter were exclusively of Severus. As an infant, he’d been a tiny little thing, born with a shock of black hair, and apparently a sour disposition, as he seemed to be crying in every photo. Tears sprang unbidden to your own eyes as you watched this slip of a boy grow up through the images. He was three or four, asleep on this very couch with a scraggly looking brown teddy bear clutched in his little arms. A few years later, he was crouched in the meager back garden, using a stick to poke at the contents of a metal bucket (_baby’s first potion?_). And after that, he was very small again, standing on the front step of the house next to a puny jack-o-lantern, wearing long black robes and a pointed witch’s hat, a cauldron nearly overflowing with candy in his hands. He was smiling widely, and missing several teeth. 

There was no rhyme or reason to the order of these childhood photos. They jumped back and forth from infancy to young adulthood, placed in random sequence on the remaining pages of the book. You tried to divine the intention of this, why they would be set up so haphazardly, but you didn’t have much time to dwell on the mystery.

You shouldn’t have been surprised when the bookcase sprang open; you’d heard the footfalls on the creaky stairs. And still you jumped, holding the book to your chest and glancing over your shoulder as Severus finally reentered the sitting room, a small silver frame in one hand, and two or three Polaroid’s in the other. He paused on the bottom step, staring across the room at you with an air of confusion. 

“Are… Are you _crying_?”

You burst out a sudden, shocked laugh, before wiping at your eyes with the heel of your hand. Yes, you supposed you were. You set the book back into your lap as you used your sleeves to dry your face properly. “You were so cuuuuute,” you moaned, sniffles and giggles causing your voice to waiver. 

Severus appeared bemused, a confused smirk on his lips as he finally stepped off of the stairs, using his backside to push the bookcase shut. “_Were_?” he asked incredulously, arching a challenging brow as he stepped towards the couch. He leaned over your shoulder, resting his elbows on the back of the sofa, and he attempted to execute a Severe Pout™ of his own. You snorted with giggles and plapped a hand against his face, pushing him away.

“Oh hush,” you teased. “That’s not what I meant.” He chuckled before he kissed your palm, and you relented your struggle, holding his cheek tenderly for a moment before peering down at the artifacts in his hands. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

That seemed to sober him up. “I think so,” he hummed, turning his find towards you, and you dropped your hand from his face to trace your finger over the intricate silver picture frame he held in one hand. It was oval shaped, the boarder looking like braided metal, and the picture within was blinking tiredly, the subtle movement belying its magical nature. Eileen looked quite young, wearing her Hogwarts robes and a pointed hat, and though she wasn’t smiling, you still thought she was rather pretty. It looked like a school photo, and you smiled a little, despite how melancholy she looked within the frame. Severus didn’t offer you the Polaroid’s, and you didn’t ask for them. “Were there any in…” He trailed off, gesturing towards the album in your lap, and you stiffened a bit, shaking your head as you turned back to it.

“Your dad is in all of the wedding photos,” you admitted reluctantly, and weren’t surprised when Severus cringed away. “I didn’t think you’d want to use those.” There was a tense silence as you heard him shuffling around behind you, but you couldn’t stand it for long, and cleared your throat politely. “Otherwise the whole thing is just pictures of you.”

There was another pause, though the quiet was less… disquieting. The footsteps behind you halted before Severus finally asked, “Whole thing?”

You blinked, puzzled, and peered over your shoulder again. He was standing at one of the bookshelves, where he appeared to have transfigured one of his books into a small keepsake box, which he’d deposited the frame and Polaroid’s into. “Well, yeah,” you answered, and your confusion only deepening as _his_ confusion became more evident on his face.

“The _whole thing_ is full of pictures of me?” he asked again, and you simply blinked stupidly at each other for a few moments. What in the hell was he even getting at? Of course it was fill of pictures of him. It was his baby book, wasn’t it?

“Yes?” you answered, though it clearly came out as more of a question. Severus closed his eyes for a moment, seeming to realize that this back and forth was getting you nowhere, before he crossed the room again, this time stepping around the couch to stand in front of you. He held his hand out expectantly, and you offered over the photo album, which he promptly replaced with the box. You both stared down at your newly acquired items, but you’d barely even gotten a chance to read the title of the book he’d transfigured before he was falling back onto the couch beside you.

“…I’ve never seen these pictures before in my _life_.”

You started, snapping your attention right back to him. You were concerned to find he’d gone quite pale, and he was rapidly flipping through the last half of the album, looking absolutely perplexed by the images therein. “W…What?” you asked cautiously, placing the box (_The Hunchback of Notre Dame_) onto the rickety coffee table in front of the couch. You shifted to sit back on your knees beside him, and you crept closer as he continued his frenzied perusal of the photobook.

“I thought it was just their wedding album, and a few pictures from when I was born,” he explained, finally settling on one the last pages, all pictures of Severus at different ages being unbearably cute (_according to you_). You watched uneasily as he picked at the corner of one of the photos, the one of him from some Halloween, but the picture wouldn’t budge. “This is a sticking charm,” he murmured, giving up his prying to simply stare down at the images. His face was perfectly impassive, but you knew better.

“Severus…” you whispered, lightly placing a hand against his arm. You felt his bicep bunched up under your fingers, but almost instantly it slackened, as if your touch had reminded him to relax. You pressed yourself closer to him, keeping your hold on his arm while your other hand cupped over his, where it clutched the edges of the book. His grip then eased as well.

“She must have been… been _hoarding_ these,” he finally confessed, his eyes still cast down on the book. He seemed to be speaking to himself, just as much as he was explaining things to you. “I scarcely remember half of them being taken.” He traced the fingers of his other hand over the smooth, flat edges of the magically affixed photographs, before once again scratching his nail against the edge. It didn’t budge. “She must have put them all in after… after he left. That’s why they’re all… jumbled up.”

There was a longer silence then, but it was decidedly calmer than the one before. Severus finally turned the book back to the beginning of his life, carefully avoiding the pictures of his parents wedding, and started slowly flipping through the pages. He was much more methodical as he looked over each photo carefully, and you shifted to sit more comfortably beside him, looping your arms around his elbow as you gently rested your head against his shoulder. You were more than happy to look through the memories again, this time with him by your side.

You’d remained silent out of respect, but when you finally arrived at what was undeniably your favorite photo, you couldn’t help yourself. “Were you a little witch for trick or treat?” you asked softly, pointing out the photo of him standing on the stoop, with his cauldron full of candy and smile full of holes. And you were pleased when he chuckled low in his chest, the vibration reminding you of a purring cat, and you leaned into him further.

“I was,” he answered. You didn’t expect more than that, and were a little startled as he hesitantly continued. “Halloween was one of the only times mum got to use magic.” There was a pause as he imperceptibly swallowed, and you took his hand again, running your thumb over his knuckles. He pressed on. “Tobias was usually gone in the evenings anyway, so she would pull out her school trunk and cast _reducio_ on her old robes for me to wear. We’d eat all of the candy that night and he’d never be any the wiser.” You watched as the edges of his lips attempted to tug downwards, but he kept himself steady, instead forcing out a breathy laugh. “I didn’t even mind that I had to be a _witch_. I _wanted_ to be just like my mum, at the time.” Finally, the frown did settle onto his mouth, and there was a definite taste of bitterness in his next words. “On Halloween it was acceptable to be magical…”

You sighed softly, closing your eyes as you returned your head to his shoulder. That bitterness would always be there, you wagered. At least against muggles like Tobias. Against those who would see magic folk beaten down, and against those who would see Severus beaten down, specifically. You knew too, this was why he’d made… certain choices, in his past. But as far as you were concerned, he was atoning for them each and every day. You trusted him beyond measure, and when you opened your eyes, you turned your face to place a soft kiss against his shoulder.

“She loved you very much, Severus,” you whispered. It was like stating that the sky was blue, because there was a book full of the proof of it. It was evidence of a woman who had done everything that she could for her son. And just liked your mothers eyes adored you, you knew that behind the lens of that camera, Eileen had looked the same.

He sighed softly as he leaned his head against yours, gripping your hand tightly as he swallowed back unbidden emotions. “She did her best.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Art by BlooeyedTroll!](https://BlooeyedTroll.tumblr.com/post/189364599539/snoodetober-2019)   



	32. Samhain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: Oh my god. This is it. Thank you all, from the bottom of my heart, for sticking with me and being amazing and supportive readers. And of course, the worlds biggest shout out to @BlooeyedTroll, for putting this whole thing together, for working with me on these wonderful prompts, and for being an incredible friend 💕
> 
> Length: 2833
> 
> Rating: T
> 
> Warnings: None.

When you were a girl, your mother would set up her altar in the center of the living room. On all the other days of the year, it was just your coffee table. But on the Sabbats, it was a sacred thing, and though it confused you, you still treated it with respect. She’d cover it with a purple cloth, and starting from the middle, she’d place her tools. A small plate with a pentacle painted on it was placed in the center. A Goddess statute, an impressionistic figurine with wide hips and large breasts, arms encircled over her head, was placed to the Northwest, and the God, with broad shoulders and angular arms that came to a point over its head, was situated in the Northeast. Before the Goddess, she placed the chalice, the bell, and a dish of water. And before the God, incense, a dish of salt, and the athame, a white handled knife used only for ritual.

She’d cleanse everything in smoke, the entire house clouding with the fragrance of white sage and frankincense. Then came your favorite part; decorating. Your mother would let you pick up fall leaves and acorns, choose the biggest bunch of orange chrysanthemums or marigolds you could find, and buy a maximum of three miniature pumpkins, because she knew you would fill the house with them if you were left unchecked. You would make apple cider, and bake crescent cakes, and go trick or treating before coming home to finish the night with the ritual. You would recite pretty rites, and leave the cakes and a few pieces of your candy on the plate, and you would light candles to illuminate the path for the dead.

When you first started joining your mother for these rituals, there were only two picture frames on the altar. Friends of your mothers, one lost in a car accident, the other, to a bad trip. They were gone long before you were old enough to remember them. But as you got older, a third frame had been added to the collection. Your mother had explained that it was your grandfather, a man you had never known, who had been absent since your conception. The photo was from an obituary cut out of the newspaper, the only way your mother had even known he’d died. You’d been young and confused as to why she was honoring him on the altar, why you were supposed to care about someone you’d never known. But she’d just smiled at you sadly, and told you that you would understand when you were older. 

You thought you did understand now. It was your first time doing something like this on your own. Your mother had been so confident in her placement of things, but you’d referenced more books than you cared to admit. But that was part of the process, you supposed. Learning about it, borrowing from others, and then adapting it to be your own. To you mother, this was religion. To you, it was tradition. And for Severus… you hoped it would be cathartic.

You’d both been eager for the Halloween feast to come to a close. While it was undeniably one of your favorite feasts at Hogwarts, you could tell just by looking at him that Severus didn’t really want to be here. The hall was always so loud during Holiday feasts, more so than usual, and you could practically feel him radiating irritation and discomfort. And if the noise wasn’t enough, you were perfectly aware of the significance of this date. October 31st would never be just another feast day for him. You’d twined your fingers with his under the staff table, and he’d gripped your hand tightly in return. 

Once the festivities had finally ended, you waited by the doors of the Great Hall, watching as Severus had a short conference with his Slytherin Prefects (_Halloween was prime time for pranks and mischief, after all_) before he sent them on their way after the rest of the house. He appeared tired, like he wasn’t too confident that some marauding_ wouldn’t_ be happening on this night, and was mentally preparing to have to deal with it. But when he’d finally met you at the doors, he laced his fingers with yours once again, a rare display to happen in such a public space, but it warmed your heart to feel his confidence in you_. Lead the way_, the touch said. And so you did, making sure there were no prying student eyes along the way.

You’d opted to set up in your own quarters, instead of Severus’ rooms down in the dungeons. You’d spent most of the month working on it, collecting certain items, researching different rituals, referencing just and absurd amount of books. You’d wanted everything to be perfect, tailored to Severus’ specific needs and tastes. When you finally entered the room, he’d been utterly silent, moving slowly as he crossed the floor towards the window, standing before the moonlit table with something akin to reverence on his face.

For lack of a better alternative, the dark wood breakfast table that was situated before your alcove window became your altar. You’d draped it with a purple cloth with black tassels around the edges, and you’d charmed the curtains around the window, changing their color from yellow to pomegranate. The thin shroud draped low against the window, allowing the moonlight to filter through, the expanse of stars beyond growing brighter the darker it became. You’d constructed a pentacle of soft pliable twigs from the Forbidden Forest, tucking brightly colored leaves between the twisted stems before hanging it from the highest point of the window, completing the backdrop.

You pulled a lot of inspiration from your mother’s altars in the construction of your own, though you made a few alterations. You had a feeling Severus wasn’t particularly attracted to the religious aspect. So you bypassed the deity figures, tall white candles taking their place on the table. Beside them were two vases, transfigured (_poorly_) from black iron cauldrons, but you hoped their rough texture and dark color would tie in with the rest of the color story. Orange chrysanthemums, yellow lilies, and rowan branches with bright red berries overflowed from the vessels, each deliberately chosen for their magical properties. The chrysanthemums for protection, lilies for devotion, and rowan for the banishing of negative energies. Taking inspiration from your mother, you’d acquired a small pewter plate and painted a black pentacle on it with paints from your own collection, placing it at the center of the table and surrounding it with six small white tea lights.

You decided to appeal to the elements, instead of the gods, feeling that Severus might appreciate the tangibility of them, and the connection they still had to modern magic. To the north you’d placed a dish of salt, a grounding substance, a sacred mineral from the earth. To the east, the censor, a coal briquette smoldering upon a layer of sand in a stone bowl, a small bottle of myrrh resin incense, waiting to release their healing perfume into the air. To the south was a small red candle, and from its central flame you would light all of the other candles adorning the altar. And to the west was the chalice, filled with purifying water, the surface rippling with the faint glow from the moon. Finally, at the head of the table, situated between the two white candles nearest to the window, was the offering plate. The gleaming copper platter was resting atop a small platform, and was laden with apples, pomegranates, a goblet of red wine, and of course, crescent cakes. A gift for the dead.

There was only one thing missing. 

You finally moved to stand beside him, gently touching his arm in an attempt to bring him back to the present. He started slightly, turning towards you, his face etched with indescribable emotion. But you simply held your hands out to him, smiling reassuringly as you waited. He stared down at your hands for a moment, before he reached into an inner pocket of his robe. He placed against your palms a small silver frame, and a single Polaroid, and you brushed your thumbs over the backs of his hands as you took them. 

The picture of Eileen was set before the white candle on the left, her face appearing more serene than it had been when Severus first found the photo, the woman within looking around thoughtfully at her new surroundings. The picture of Lily was propped against the other white candle, and you couldn’t help but stare down at it for a few moments, your heart swelling with unbidden emotion. Both Lily and Severus had to be about nine or ten, and Lily had turned the camera round on both of them, Severus squinting in the bright sunlight over Lily’s right shoulder as Lily smiled cheerfully beside him. For some reason, you had been expecting a photo of them from when they were older, but you realized that might have been wishful thinking. To see the two as children together… to know he only kept mementos from that time when they had still been close…

“I hate to admit I’ve never really done this before,” Severus murmured behind you, and you jumped slightly, realizing you’d been caught staring. He’d removed his teaching robes, laying the black wool cloak across the foot of your bed. “I’ve read about it. Heard about it, from Lucius. But I’ve never actually partaken in… _this_ sort of ritual.” He rubbed his palm against his left forearm, and you glanced away as you slipped your own knit robes from your shoulders, tossing them to the bed to join his.

“It’s okay. To be fair I’ve never really done this by myself, either,” you admitted, looking down at the altar sheepishly. You pulled your wand from your sleeve, rubbing your thumb against the threads and strings you’d wrapped around the handle. “My mother had a ritual. We would recite these pretty poems. Sometimes we would sing. Sometimes she’d scare the crap out of me by trying to communicate with the dead using a spirit board.” Severus started at that, but you laughed softly, placing a soothing hand against his forearm. He didn’t twitch away. “But that’s just how _she_ did things,” you assured him, wrapping your fingers around his wrist and drawing him towards the altar. “How do _you_ want to do things? Why are we here? Why are we doing this?”

“Because _you_ suggested it,” he quipped back. You narrowed your eyes slyly, and he relented with a soft sigh. He shifted his free hand so that it was holding yours, and stared down at the altar, at the amalgamation of wax and stone and flora that meant nothing in particular on their own, but when arranged together, represented something greater. Something magical. 

Severus was pensive for several long moments, the silence stretching thin as you patiently waited for him to gather his thoughts. You feared that perhaps he wasn’t ready to deal with this. _You_ knew why he was here. Or at least you thought you did. You hoped this would be reconciliation. Release. A liberation from the guilt he still warred over, because you _knew_ that he still did. You thought back to the day you had asked him if he’d wanted to do this. At the time, you’d only been thinking of his mother, but when he’d suggested including Lily on the altar… he hadn’t been able to look at you. It was a stark reminder that you were second, and though that was something you had accepted (_it hadn’t even taken you long to do so_), you felt as though _he_ couldn’t accept it. Like it was a betrayal of one, or the other. And you desperately wanted him to understand that it didn’t have to be so black and white.

“We’re here because you love them,” you said softly, and you felt him stiffen beside you. You leaned your head against his shoulder, brushing your thumb soothingly back and forth against the back of his hand. “It’s okay that you do. You _should_. I _want_ you to remember how much you love them.” You felt the soft tremor in his fingers, and you held him fast, gently squeezing your reassurance into his palm. “I never got to know them. But I know them through you. And it’s _because_ you love so deeply that I feel honored just to be standing here with you.” You closed your eyes tightly, feeling your own throat clench. This time he squeezed your palm reassuringly. “I’m here because I love you. But you’re _you_, because of them.” You opened your eyes, felt tears spill down your cheeks. But you made no move to brush them away. You had a feeling you weren’t the only one who had them. “So tonight, while the veil is thin, we remind them that we love them. We light candles to guide their path, and we offer food to nourish their souls.”

You felt a little silly, saying it out loud. You’d plucked those last few words directly from your mother’s own rites, and you knew that… what your mother did wasn’t ‘real’ magic. But maybe on nights like tonight, one these days of power, when the sun and the stars were positioned to amplify the magic current that ran through this planet, it didn’t matter whether the magic was real or not. It was the intention behind it that mattered most.

“For someone who’s never done this before, you sure know what you’re talking about.” His voice sounded wobbly and thin, but you both snorted with quiet laughter. You _had_ gone on a bit of a tangent. But if the way Severus tried to deflect, if the way he clutched your hand for dear life was any indication, you’d struck a chord, and it seemed that he finally _did_ understand why you were here, and had decided upon how he wanted to go about this.

He placed the tip of his wand against the wick of the red candle, and after a sudden spark, it jumped to life with flame. But instead of taking up the candle himself, he used a charm to duplicate it, and after placing his wand on the table, picked up the candle on the right. You gazed up at him, and he looked back down at you expectantly, arching a questioning brow. Well. This _was_ his ritual.

Setting down your own wand, you took up the other red candle, and together, you set about lighting the rest, starting with the tea lights surrounding the pentacle, and ending with the two large white candles behind the photos. You lighted the one for Eileen, while Severus illuminated the one behind Lily. The whole altar was glowing brightly now, and it filled you with sense of contentment. Severus sprinkled a few granules of myrrh onto the briquette, and the resin began to melt and sizzle, curls of white smoke swirling up towards the ceiling, the cleansing scent quickly filling the room. After fire and air, came earth and water, Severus taking up the dish of salt as you held the chalice. Your mother would probably have told you that you were doing this in entirely the wrong order, but it didn’t really matter at this point. This was what you were making it. Severus scattered pinches of salt around the altar, and you did the same by dipping your fingers in the water, letting it drip to the purple cloth, cleansing the space to make room for more pleasant energies. Once the salt and chalice were returned to their rightful places, you stood together in comfortable silence, simply gazing into the glowing fire light, at the swirling smoke, the glistening water droplets and the sparkling salt. It made for a pretty picture, and you could feel the hum of magic surrounding you both.

“Thank you,” Severus murmured softly, the tremor finally gone from his voice now, though you could still feel it in his hand. You got the distinct impression, that he wasn’t speaking only to you, and you smiled a little as you held his arm, pressing yourself close beside him. 

Another season turning. Another month ending. Samhain would soon give way to Yule, and the colors, the tastes, the scents would shift, from the warm and luscious notes of autumn, to the soft and comforting shades of winter. The harvest season was ending, and the New Year would begin. With shorter days and longer nights, there would be more excuses to get close as the temperatures dropped. There would be more chances to explore. To discover. To make new memories and traditions, and share old ones from the past. And you took comfort in the fact that no matter where you spent those long, dark nights, as long as you were with him, you were home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Art by BlooeyedTroll!](https://BlooeyedTroll.tumblr.com/post/189368385074/snoodetober-2019)  
THANKS AGAIN EVERYONE 💕💕💕


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